Saving Regina
by atlonglastlove
Summary: S3. Emma Swan meets Young Regina
1. Chapter 1

"So. We're agreed. We stick to the plan. We get Henry. We get out. No heroes. No old vengence to… whatever. Just the plan." She looked at the circle of faces staring back at her. Charming was nodding enthusiastically, obviously trying to recall the actual plan so recently discussed. Hook was glassy-eyed, looking like he'd disappeared into some porn-riddled fantasy starring none other than Emma herself, with perhaps a handful of fairies. Rumple was pouting in the corner, but wiggled his fingers in what Emma took to be agreement. And Snow. Snow wore that smile, the one that spoke of complete disregard for the plans merit, while convinced of its brilliance solely because Emma had thunk it.

"To mete out?" Regina's low voice offered. She met Emma's quick glare with a blink and a steady, challenging gaze.

Emma tilted her head and looked harder at the lovely and infuriating woman who was wearing her usual veil of assurance along with that impossibly inappropriate and inexplicably dismantling suit right there in the middle of the forest. Emma pursed her lips and silenced the "Really?!" that yearned to breathe free.

"You seemed a loss for words." Regina shrugged lightly, the nearly imperceptible lift of a brow the only indication she was having a lark at Emma's less than bookish vocabulary. "I was being helpful." Now Emma watched as a tiny corner of Regina's mouth lifted.

Emma leaned in, close enough to whisper, "Careful. Don't laugh. You might break something."

_Like another goddamm button off that goddamn shirt. Jesus H._

"Right!" Emma spoke louder than necessary, as she stood up straight and tried to ignore the faint trace of Regina's lush scent, lingering—not entirely unwelcome—in her consciousness. "No more talking then. Let's try and rest. We're up before dawn."

With nods and shuffles the group disbanded, each moving to their separate plots of land. Just like the first night, Emma placed herself far outside the circle so she could keep watch. She plopped herself down on the cold, packed dirt and tried to avoid the woman camped across from her. Emma'd moved herself a dozen times that first night, yet each time, Regina's unavoidable form always seemed to wind its way to the center of her horizon.

As the camp settled in, Emma worked to adapt her senses, to memorize the baseline of sights, smells, and sounds of the forest. Right away, though, she noticed something changed from their first night. Tonight, Regina lay not rolled away with her back to Emma. She was facing her.

And her eyes were open.

Even from 50 yards off, Emma felt the pull of Regina's gaze, and so she looked back, hoping to convey the strength and decisiveness she knew Regina worried she lacked. Regina blinked, and her hand lifted to tuck a bit of dark hair behind an ear, but still she stared. Emma didn't waver, either, for there had been something going on since the mines … maybe before. They'd been sizing each other up in a very new way. Less antagonism, perhaps, though with equal parts intensity.

Suddenly, Regina pushed herself to sitting, one foot tucked under her body, her two hands flat on the earth, gaze still drilling into Emma. With an arch in her brow, Regina stood, scrubbing her hands together, ridding them of dirt and abruptly, she turned off. Emma blinked rapidly at the loss of those eyes, and breathed.

Regina was, wait… Leaving? She was three paces out of camp before she looked over her shoulder at Emma, then turned once again and kept moving quickly away.

Emma sprang to her feet and surveyed the rest of the group – all apparently conked out. Checking her weapon was fast across her back, Emma moved to catch up.

/

Regina stood along the bank of the small lake they'd discovered yesterday, her expensive boot toeing at wet, tumbling sand, waiting for her. The moons of Neverland reflected off the still waters, making the whole world glisten in the dark, and leaving Regina awash in a captivating glow of blue.

Perhaps it was her quest to redeem herself, perhaps it was her utterly unrepentent love for Henry, but whatever it was, Regina had lately become almost unbearably beautiful. Emma had figured out a long time ago that the whole 'fairest in the land' thing hadn't been a fiction of their son's book, but something about the beauty of _this _Regina produced a dull, thud, thud, that beat down under Emma's belt buckle and she worried at that. In such beauty, there was so much sadness and as Emma felt her care and concern for Regina growing, it was this ever-present sadness that she found completely unnerving. She wanted to push it away and had absolutely no idea how.

"What's up?" Emma asked, going for casual as she prepared internally for whatever surprises might be unleashed.

Regina sighed deeply as she lifted her head and met Emma's eyes. "I'm ready to change the rules, Sheriff." Though her gaze was kind, there was fire in it, a daring, eloquently telegraphed. "Are you?"

"Maybe…" Emma started. "Though there already seems to be a lot of, uh, room for interpretation around here.

"I mean between us. Our rules." And Regina stepped forward.

Already standing quite close, Regina's approach left little room to maneuver, and that thud, thud, below Emma's belt sounded a bit more loudly, dropped a bit lower. Regina's hand again moved up to tuck that stray lock of midnight hair behind her ear, brought a finger to own, red lips, and tapped, tapped, and Emma tracked each miniscule movement, while Regina watched her watching…

"I've a proposition for you, Emma."

The air between them quickly changed, now hot and thick with electricity, but the glint in Regina's eyes wasn't real, and Emma rejected the dishonesty she saw with an unhappy snarl.

"What the hell, Regina?" She wanted to push the woman away, angry at the ruse, but she instead stood firm.

Red parted lips snapped shut and a moment of self-defeat swam in dark eyes which Emma was more than close enough to witness. Regina laughed a sad, little laugh and lowered her head, a wistful smile gracing her face.

"Excuse me." Regina took a big step away and clasped her hands before her. She drew a deep, steadying breath. "You know I'm trying to do things a bit differently, but…" She looked past Emma, out onto the clear lake, "Old habits."

Emma recognized what was an honest and painful admission. She swallowed the discomfort of the previous moments, and took a chance. She and Regina rarely touched, rarely crossed that last thin span of space between them, but the moment seemed right. Emma reached out and gently held her, above the elbow with a reassuring pressure. Regina started, though she suppressed it immediately, and stared at the touch offered in support.

"It's okay." Emma gave a soft smile.

Regina nodded in thanks and slowly extracted her arm, stood with her hands clasped once more.

"I want you to know that I heard you. We work better together." She smiled back and Emma was grateful, renewed. "Now I know you meant to include everyone in our cozy little legion, but I do beg to differ."

"You want to split up." Emma stated, and waited for the confirmation, her expression neutral.

"I think you and I have the same intentions here. Surely we can agree on that?" Regina posed a potentially awkward, but hopeful question, and Emma found the answer was easy.

"Yep."

"We've established—quite spectacularly, I think—that together, you and I, make quite the formidable team."

"Yes." Emma nods, and grins at the memory of the mines.

"As to Neverland, well, I know this place."

"Uh huh…" This, Emma was less sure of. Regina looked surprised.

"You doubt me?"

"You have history here, Regina. I'm not positive that entirely… helps."

Regina considers this a moment before, "Perhaps, but I'll trust you to keep me on task."

Emma's eyebrows shoot upward. "You will?"

"I will."

"Why?"

"Let's not delve too deeply into that." Regina looks at her fingertips, clearly steeling herself from the inevitable follow-up question.

"Regina – I need to know what you're thinking. You want us to split off from the rest of the group, when frankly I'm not sure they won't all stop looking for Henry, and start looking for us. Or worse, fall apart without adult supervision."

That rankled the Queen.

"I do not have time to supervise people who _should_ be able to supervise themselves. I want to find Henry!"

"And we will." Emma knew she didn't sound all that reassuring, not keen on the potential problems of working with the whole team, either.

"Yes, **WE** will." Regina moved in again, taking over every inch of Emma's world. "Please, Emma, I can hardly stand another moment of this. WE will wind up finding him anyway, you must know that. Why delay?" Quieter now, "Let's just go, you and me, and find our son. Okay?"

"Regina, I…"

Two warm hands gripped Emma's, "I know they're your parents, but do _either_ of us truly have the patience for those two id… bumblers? Hook?" Emma stuck a look of insult on her face, but it was hardly convincing. "You're a woman of action, aren't you? Stop THINKING so much. Act." The hope and the passion that lit Regina's eyes was something new, and exceedingly difficult to deny.

"That's probably not a great idea."

"Yes. It. Is." Regina growled out, her voice dropping an octave in her plea, and she was moving in on the blonde yet again.

Emma pulled her hands from their embrace and held them up in surrender.

"Regina! I get it, and I do, I trust you, too, but I, we _need_ the others."

"No we don't." Regina effectively silenced Emma by dropping one hand to the bottom of Emma's belt, tucking her fingers up and under the buckle and pulling hard. The squeal of surprise was to be expected, as Emma stumbled forward and hit the Queen flush, their bodies colliding with a delicious thump. "We have everything we need. Right here."

"I.." Emma began.

"Shut up." Regina said, and kissed her.

The kiss began with a start but rapidly became needy. Regina tasted sweet and soft and her mouth felt like falling into heaven. Emma's body was shot through with something all sparkly and insistent. Regina drew back and ran a finger over Emma's lower lip, then dove in to capture it in her teeth. Regina's tongue traced and entered her mouth and a moan, a gasp, and Emma's hands managed to land on Regina's face, pulling away to meet the dark, hungry gaze she'd yearned to see far more than she'd dared to admit.

Regina was stunning, and smiling with an only slightly predatory smile. At the same time, she was also remarkably present. Whatever this was, Emma knew, it was real, and she couldn't stop the joy that flooded her heart, the rush of relief, or the tears that fell from her eyes.

"I knew there was more." She began breathlessly, her forehead resting against Regina's. "Much more to us. To you." And oh, was this the very thing to say, as Emma watched a light, buried somewhere deep in Regina begin to fill those dark, dark eyes and soften the lines of her face…

"Oh no, no, Dearies. What ARE you two up to?"

The women separated in a heartbeat, and both tried to leap in front of the other. But for the fact that Regina was still clearly rattled by Emma's words, she surely would have wound up shielding the Savior. Instead, Emma—newly filled with purpose and certainty—had instantly pulled and raised her weapon, while her other hand kept reaching back for Regina, assuring she was close behind.

"If you don't know, I'm feeling kind of bad for Belle." Emma was quick to retort.

"THIS, this won't do at all, all, all." Rumple shook his head in dismay.

"Now, why don't you run along, Gold." Regina grabbed up Emma's hand in her own and held it close, "Nothing concerns you here."

"What _concerns_ me is for me to know." With menace, he added, "And you to regret." He began to pace, back and forth before them, effectively keeping their backs to the water.

Weapon steady, Emma started forward, confident of Regina at her back, in her heart. And tired of Gold's games.

"Step back, Gold. We are in no mood, and I've had more than enough of your damn interference."

"Surely you're not threatening, _me_?" He marveled, fingers crooking back to his own chest.

"Apparently, I am." Emma stated flatly, ready.

"Don't push me, Dearie."

"Don't you push, **ME**" Emma's anger was rising, and it was Regina she felt trying to gentle her, an open hand at the small of her back.

"It's all right, dear," Regina purred. "Let me." And the Queen raised her hand.

But Gold was faster, and Emma was lifted off the ground, looking to be unceremoniously tossed into the water behind them.

"Don't you touch her!" Regina was ferocious, and magic rushed out from her, sweeping underneath the blonde's falling body, catching her in mid-air.

"Touch her?" Rumple grimaced, "It's time I killed her."

He pulled his dagger from his boot, held it aloft, and that beautiful, radiant light of the moons that had framed Regina moments ago, was gathering and glinting off the blade. Rumple shifted the flat of the blade, directing the light which was gaining in intensity, directly at Emma. Regina's eyes widened n horror.

"NO!" She cried, and hurled another bolt of magic at the arcing light. In mid-air, the two powers collided in a shower of sparks.

And Emma disappeared.

/

"Oooooooooooooooooooaaaaaafff!"

Emma landed hard atop, a, what? Barrel of potatoes?

Everything hurt and she groaned in pain as she attempted to move. Taking another moment, she breathed out, "Wooooa…"

Directly above her, the rended fabric of what looked to be the ceiling of a tent. The hole was large. Emma-sized. No wonder she felt like crap and smelled like crushed potatoes. She'd just dropped from the sky.

"Oh, great." She grumbled.

Gingerly raising her head, Emma tried to asses if any part of her was busted. "So far, so good." And started to sit up.

"Oh my goodness! Are you alright?! What in the _world_ happened?"

Emma turned at a startled voice, something about it very familiar, yet definitely not. A young woman was rushing to her side. Worried, warm, cinnamon eyes, hair black and flowing, a finely-boned hand over her mouth.

_Who?_

"What a tremendous racket!" And the hand moved away, revealing a face, a mouth that Emma could never mistake.

"Who…?" But, Emma couldn't finish. Couldn't believe.

And then a smile, and oh, _such_ a smile. Wide and open, full of delight and wonder. And a laugh. A giggle, practically.

_How…?_

"Thank the Gods, you're not hurt?! Really?" And the beauty before her grabbed Emma's hand and carefully helped her up, and into a nearby chair, rattling on excitedly the entire time. "I can't imagine how you've survived such an ordeal. And wherever did you come from? Are there others coming after you?" The young woman peered up, through the ragged tent top. She giggled again, and slapped a hand back over her mouth to stop. "I'm sorry. I'm just so surprised. Please don't think… it's certainly NOT funny. But it is rather… odd. Isn't it?" The infinite softness of her eyes suddenly filled with remorse, "Heavens! I should get you some water. Something…"

And then she was gone.

Emma watched in stunned silence, her mouth agape.

As she dashed away, the long white dress was hitched up in the young woman's hands to as to not drag along the dirt. The perfect cascade of pitch dark hair lifted from her slight back, locks of it fluttering in the breeze created by her hurried gait.

Another face appeared at Emma's side.

"OH!" She cried.

The face was rather craggy, seasoned. The old man wore a curious smile surrounded by graying whiskers and framed by two watery brown eyes.

"You alright there… Miss?" Taking in Emma's attire, he seemed unsure _what_ to call her. He himself wore what looked like a modified gunny sack under layers of animal pelts. His feet were warmly booted and the 'hat' on his head had quite recently been wrapped around a beaver.

…or some other Enchanted Forest equivalent.

Emma's quick recognition of having returned to the Enchanted Forest was one thing. The young woman? Quite another.

"Who is that, please?" Emma asked quietly as her eyes again found the woman on the square.

"Why, that's young Regina. Regina Mills."

Emma was speechless, watching the woman move through the market, gathering a cup of water here, a bit of food there, and then she was returning to Emma's side. Her brilliant smile was absolute, happiness literally spilled from her, filling up the world.

Unbidden, tears flooded into Emma's eyes as she realized she was being tended to by the woman Regina once had been, unfettered by the burdens of the woman she became, with none of familiar deep lines that now marred her brow. Here was a Regina lost long ago.

"Oh, you ARE hurt!" Regina hastily set down her burdens and knelt before Emma, her soft hands sweetly wiping at the tears that spilled from Emma's aching, green gaze.

Emma shook her head, and tried to stop the rush of feelings. None of this would make sense to this Regina. _This_ Regina hadn't been trying so hard to find the best path, and Emma knew how hard the other Regina had fought, how much it was taking from her. To see Regina now, _this_ Regina, so completely without the regret of those lonely years, years of enforced rigidity, and determined self-preservation. This Regina was utterly alive, and positively lovely.

"My God," Emma whispered out, staring at the woman Regina was meant to be. "No wonder."

"No wonder? What?" Bright dark eyes sparked with curiosity and joy.

_I fell in love with you._


	2. Chapter 2

Though her curiosity was literally making her tremble, Regina tried to not press the poor woman for answers. After all, she'd only just 'arrived' in the Enchanted Forest, but,

_What was she DOING here, and how did she __get__ here, and what kind of magic was THAT?_

Too, there was the way the stranger was peering at her, as though she knew her, had seen her a thousand times before, when certainly that couldn't be true. Regina would remember such a beautiful creature. Even covered in smooshed potatoes and clothed in a rather regrettable, presumably otherworldly ensemble, she was drawn to the strong jaw, the lustrous hair, and mostly, those fascinating eyes. Had she the courage, Regina would insist the woman let her stare into those eyes until she was confident she'd come to know all the colors they displayed.

"No wonder, what?" Regina asked again, quietly. She was sad to see a hint of deep despair glide through that blue-green gaze which held her fast.

Shaking her head, the stranger broke eye contact, looking away, looking anywhere else.

Regina reached out placed gentle fingers beneath the woman's chin, encouraging she turn back, until their eyes found one another again.

"Who _are_ you?" Regina breathed out, a thumb stroking along the cheek, the pale skin coloring under the attention. While she wasn't quite sure what was happening, the longer their interaction continued, the more Regina felt a kind of… current between them. It was a living, breathing thing, like a third heart beating, sharpening her senses and pulling her close.

"Emma," the woman pronounced, "I'm Emma" and paused a moment, as though anticipating a particular response.

"I'm sorry, but have we met before?" Regina inquired. "I feel..." She felt a bit of blush rise, "so strange. Were we friends as children, perhaps?"

Emma seemed to lean into the hand that still rested on her cheek before she shook her head slowly, stood, and moved out of Regina's space, seeming to need to gather herself. She wandered to the opposite side of the tent, her head lowered.

Regina stood and in the process, inadvertently revealed the strip of dark cloth she wore wrapped and tied about her ankle. Emma saw it too, and raised a questioning brow.

"I…" Regina shut herself down, resettling her dress over the cloth once more. Pulling her most neutral expression, she waited for Emma to answer.

"No. I'm pretty new here." Emma said. She flung her hand up awkwardly, "Where is here, by the way?"

"Well, _Emma_," Regina smiled and let the name roll off her tongue. She liked it. The owner of the name itself seemed quite taken aback by hearing her name fall from Regina's lips. "You are presently in the great and glorious kingdom of the benevolent Leopold the Fair, friend to all men and beasts."

Regina had spent two days with a stodgy Minister in Leopold's court practicing saying the phrase in public so that it sounded like she believed it, and trying not to cringe at the noticeable omission of 'women' who might benefit from Leopold's proclaimed largesse. "OH! And, I'm Regina."

Regina held out her hand, waiting for an answering gesture from Emma, but instead, she stepped in, and simply held Regina's hand between both her own, utterly lost in thought.

Emma's face was starkly etched with unspoken emotion, and her grasp on Regina's hand was decidedly firm, though she felt no threat. Regina tilted her head and it was enough to move Emma to action.

Bending at the waist, Emma brought their clasped hands up, drawing Regina's to her lips, and placed a whisper of a kiss on the soft skin atop her wrist. Regina couldn't stop the tremor that leapt through her at the unexpected intimacy.

Emma's eyes peered up, the look she sent to Regina nearly knocking the young woman's feet from under her. As she stood back up, Emma's voice broke on the single word, "Regina."

/

"Maid Regina!"

Emma startled, their reverie shattered by the accented voice of a small, sturdy woman, skin the color of cocoa, and an expression reminiscent of Mary Margaret when she was feeling particularly protective. The woman was barely five feet tall, with apple-cheeks, and a wide forehead that was worrying over finely shaped brows and eyes a rich brown. She wore a dress of grass green with a matching, jewel-laden headscarf about wavy black hair shot through with gray. She forced herself between Emma and Regina, breaking their connection. Arms folded over her chest, she faced Emma with a scowl.

"Hands off, or I'll have you thrown to the werewolves." She snarled at Emma. "Who are you?" She demanded, eyes snapping.

"MeMe, this is Emma." Regina said while placing an assuring hand on the woman's shoulder and moving her aside. "Emma this is Fanchon. Don't believe her ferociousness. The worst she'll do is never leave me alone and be a complete pest." The smiles that passed between the women were warm and familiar. Fanchon smacked Regina playfully on the arm before turning back to Emma with exactly the same expression she'd worn before.

"Where did you come from, hmmmn? I've never seen you before."

Emma was flustered. Regina met her eyes with an apology.

"MeMe, let her _be_. She's my new friend. That's all you need to know."

Fanchon clearly disapproved and after taking a better look at the blonde, she leaned closer. "You look like a mesye."

Emma wasn't sure, but thought she might be offended. Regina was aghast.

"She does not! Look at her. She's lovely." Regina turned and drew her own eyes down Emma's form, then back up. Regina added a hand to her appraisal, moving up Emma's exposed forearm, over the elbow and up her bicep. "But, you're very strong," Regina's eyes held Emma and her voice dropped. "That's certainly true." With a pronounced huff, Regina declared, "But she's no _man_, MeMe."

Emma's body twitched under the gentle inspection. _This_ Regina was nothing if not handsy, and the effect of her constant touch and nearness was completely unnerving. Emma blinked and tried to focus.

Impossibly, Regina's hand continued to move up Emma's shoulder, approaching her neck. When the two locked gazes once more, those dark eyes were assessing Emma with something more latent and powerful than that of the past several moments.

_Get a grip, Swan_

Emma shot her hand out in greeting, shrugging Regina delicately off in the process.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Fanchon grudgingly took her hand, her eyes narrowing.

"Um, so, any place to get a room around here, do you guys know?"

Regina continued her tactile assault by brushing some of the residual potato mess from Emma's back. With a grin, she said, "What you _need_ is a bath. I insist you come back with us. Goodness knows we have plenty of room at the castle."

Fanchon jumped to dismiss the suggestion. "Pitit, your mother is waiting and you know…"

"Hush, Fanchon. Emma is a traveler in our land, in need of our help. Isn't that what this _kingdom_ is supposed to stand for?" Regina's disdain for the land was unmasked, and her challenge silenced the woman, but clearly, the discussion wasn't over.

"The castle?" Emma asked.

Where _had_ Emma actually landed within Regina's life? She was bursting with questions, and wanted to just drag Regina away and to ask her everything she yearned to understand. One thing she now knew, though, and which was already beginning to trouble her deeply. Cora was here.

_Fuck. _

Cora. Emma held Cora solely responsible for Regina's future. Cora. Deceptive, manipulative, ruthless, a callous murderer willing to turn her only child into a similar beast for her own benefit. Emma flashed back to the village she and Mary Margaret had stumbled into, body after body gutted by the woman Regina called, Mother. If Emma needed a particular reason to be standing right where she was, back in the Enchanted Forest, before the birth of the Evil Queen, well, she had it.

This time, before it all started, she was going to stop Cora.

For a moment, though, Emma let her affection flow through her as she watched the Regina of _this_ time, full of love and light, as she tried to speak out of the side of her mouth at Fanchon in a fruitless effort to get her bulldog of a guardian to stand down. Overhearing Fanchon's quiet but firm, "she won't like it" was all Emma needed to understand that for Regina, this conversation needed to be over. If she was going to have to deal with Regina's mother again, keeping Cora happy—until such time that Emma could take her out of the picture—was the first and, presently, only plan.

"Tell you what," Emma began. "I'll find a place to set up nearby, and I'll catch up later."

"Catch up? Are you… racing away somewhere?" Regina didn't understand, and a Regina that was confused about anything at all—rather than the more familiar smug and omniscient—struck Emma as completely adorable. She didn't stop her big smile in reaction. Even better, Regina clearly loved seeing the joy on Emma's face.

"I'll come visit." Emma clarified.

Fanchon's expression told Emma that this was an absurd idea, never to happen. Regina, though, was in a war between disappointment and delight.

"Oh, well, yes, DO visit. I mean, I suppose, if you don't wish to stay with us…"

"It's not that I don't wish it." Emma hastily assured her, indicating with a stealthy glance to Regina that she planned to use this compromise to keep Fanchon from interfering. When Regina picked up on the strategy, her eyes danced with the shared mischief.

"Of course." Regina finished, grinning broadly now. "Fanchon, let's return to the castle posthaste." She reached out and touched Emma one last time, open palm resting on Emma's chest. Together, they took a breath. "You, I'll see later."

Regina swept from the tent with a final, brilliant smile over her shoulder.

Emma stood still, letting this new and overwhelming love for Regina simply exist. Apparently it didn't matter that this Regina was, in countless ways, vastly different from the one she knew. She was still Regina, and Emma loved her, and that was simply wondrous.

Emma bent to pick up the water cup and take a draught, but when she rose again, there was Fanchon, demanding her attention. A pointed figure drilled into her chest.

"You listen now, missy." Fanchon growled. "I got my eye on you. You stay away from that young woman unless your intentions are true. If they are not, if there is an ounce of ill will in you, I will make _sure_ you **never** get a chance to hurt her."

Emma nodded her assent and the woman turned heel and left. Emma smiled, happy that Regina had a champion here already. Instinct told her that Fanchon was far more powerful than people perhaps gave her credit for.

She drank the water and ate the hand pie that Regina had bought for her. Shaking herself off, she caught sight of the old vendor, watching her silently from the far end of his stall. He nodded and Emma responded in kind.

As Emma moved out of the tent, a huge sword dropped down, blocking her path. Emma turned to see an elaborately armored behemoth holding the sharp sword, glaring at her.

"Excuse me?" Emma asked, not sure of the protocol or even what the hell was happening.

"Nobody moves while the Maid Regina takes her leave." A gruff voice barked from behind the metal visor.

"Why not?" Emma asked with a hint of irritation.

"Are you an imbecile, made from wood, once a flower?" The giant asked, without a hint of anything but inquiry.

"Uh, no." Emma stated flatly. She thought she'd try honesty, "Just not from around here."

"The Maid Regina is to be our Queen. Nobody moves when she takes her leave."

_/_

Regina stood at her balcony, eyes scanning the cobblestones below, searching, searching, hoping…

_Please_

"Why don't you come on in now, mon Pitit?" Fanchon stood in the doorway, holding Regina's shift. "I don't think she's going to visit on this night. It's late."

With one final glance, Regina turned and moved into her bedroom. She kept her eyes downcast and caught herself wringing her hands. She separated them, stretching out her fingers as she tried to stop the dark path her mind was beginning to wander down.

She hadn't expected to want this so much, to so desperately long for another meeting so soon after meeting Emma. Hadn't expected to feel this worry, this rising sense of abandonment, betrayal, that perhaps what she'd felt had been one-sided, or less or simply non-existent, though she had been so sure.

She had felt something like it. Once.

And she'd lost everything. It had seemed unbearable then, but she'd survived, and her heart still, somehow, beat. And when that battered heart of hers had opened today, and met this Emma, this perfect, lovely Emma, and let her in, this time it had felt… absolute.

_I can't be wrong. I can't._

Not, now. Not a week from her wedding day.

/

Emma approached the balcony with caution. The three guards she'd dispatched and left bundled in a heap had been easy, unprepared for the kung fu she'd unleashed, but Emma knew it'd be crazy luck if she had the all clear and could just climb the ivy and take off with the future queen.

She tucked herself into a dark corner and tried to see a way up. The stones were well set, leaving edges too thin to climb the wall, and no trellis was conveniently situated. She needed a grappling hook, or…

The bottom of a rope ladder bounced to the ground from somewhere in Regina's balcony.

Over the edge, Fanchon's face appeared. Emma moved herself slightly into the moonlight, and pulled the hood of her robe back, allowing the beams of light to touch her hair.

Fanchon motioned to Emma quickly and with no thought she might be being lured into a trap, Emma grabbed the ladder and climbed.


	3. Chapter 3

Nearly halfway up the ladder, Emma senses movement on the ground below. Peering down, she recognizes the flash of steel—too late. She tries to jerk herself clear of the arc of the blade, and nearly succeeds. One booted foot, balancing her on the ladder rung is unlucky. Emma feels the lethal blade as it slices through the leather of her boot and across the flesh at her ankle. She flinches, but makes no sound to indicate her injury to the assailant below. A thin sheen of sweat, a hurried heartbeat, nothing else to reveal the pain that blooms.

Emma uses her arms alone to hurl her body around the back of the ladder, buying herself space. She lets herself go, dropping to the ground silently, the darkness hiding the grimace as her ankle bears the sudden weight. She draws her sword from her back and is upon the guard instantly.

He is smaller than all the others she'd run into that night, and Emma quickly discovers why he snuck up on her rather than calling her out. He is slow and unsure behind his weapon, lowering his guard after every feint. He tries to put up a good fight, but Emma bats away his parries with powerful strikes and before much time has passed, she has him shrinking away, until finally, he's face down in the dirt, his sword arm under Emma's boot, quivering.

"Don't kill me!" He pleads, his voice breaking in desperation.

Emma puts more weight onto his sword arm until he relinquishes his weapon, which Emma gathers up, along with its scabbard. Emma moves clear of him and directs him to rise. He scrabbles to his feet, shaking from top to toe, head bowed before her. He reminds her of Neverland…

_A kid. Just a damn kid._

Watching the boy, defeated and terrified, Emma feels the pang of separation from Henry that she's steadfastly muffled since her arrival. She misses her own

_damn kid. _

She breaths a bit easier as she looks around for anyone else that might be approaching. Clearly, this was either the worst trap ever lain, or the poor kid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and looking for something to prove. She motions him to go, patting his butt with his sword on the way out.

With no other threat about, Emma peers back up, up to Regina's balcony. Fanchon is looking over the edge, eyes wide, hand over her mouth, stricken. Apparently, the nurse has seen some of the action below. She points to the bottom of the ladder again, this time with more urgency, encouraging Emma to resume her climb.

This time, Emma clambers up quickly, trying to ignore the stinging pull of torn flesh as her foot shifts within her boot.

At the top Fanchon aids Emma over the rail, their arms linked and they allow their gazes to meet silently. Emma feels more certain than ever that the woman is trustworthy, kind, and with Regina's best interests in mind. Emma grins at her, winks, and Fanchon smacks her lightly on the arm before she gestures her to be quiet.

Looking into the room behind them, Emma can see Regina sitting before a large fireplace, her beauty shining brightly under the warm light.

A lake, a moonlit night, a kiss…

_Regina._

How quickly and profoundly has the dark woman changed in Emma's thoughts. Her feelings about the Regina she's left behind, the very same one sitting just beyond the glass doors, all muddled and upended by a moment in _Neverland_ of all places. But, if she is truthful, there were moments before. There were more than a few, and many where her feelings for Regina were anything but simple. Perhaps, there was really no shift at all. Perhaps there was only allowing something in which had begun long ago.

Fanchon motions for Emma to stay still, as she reenters the room and closes the doors behind her.

Through the glass, Emma watches the nurse move to Regina, helping her to rise. Fanchon pulls a lace cloth from her wrist and wipes at Regina's face, wiping away tears.

_Sweetheart…_

Fanchon crosses away to lift an ornate dressing gown, and as Regina moves from behind the chair, Emma sees that she wears only a shift. The firelight shines through the thin material, and a small groan tumbles from Emma's throat as her eyes drift shut and she quickly turns around to offer Regina her modesty—oh, that she were quick enough. The curves and dips of Regina's body are now far less a mystery to Emma, and the vision, she knows, will not soon leave her mind.

Dry-mouthed, Emma steadies herself on the stone wall, tries to breathe deeply, locking her knees until she can be certain all is proper.

In the dark, Emma waits and reflects on all she's learned during her travels that day. Regina was indeed due to be wed next week, and, yes, to this Leopold she'd mentioned, the ruler of the land. To the one, the people called Leopold wise and kind, though Emma was cautious at their uniform praise, worried that another agenda was at work, or that the standard answer was at best a rote one, and at worst, coerced. Regina, herself, clearly was a skeptic.

More than this, however, nothing from Henry's book prepared Emma for an engaged Regina, young and vibrant in the Enchanted Forest, bewitching the populous as she so clearly had. Everyone Emma spoke to in the kingdom seemed enthralled by their future Queen, praising her easy kindness, her quick mind, her beauty. Not a single person called her evil, a monster, a sorceress. No-one wished her ill or blamed her for some dreadful fate. A woman that had been deeply buried in the future was indeed completely alive today.

The click of opening doors brings her back around, and it is Fanchon she sees first, pulling Regina outside.

Wrapped now in her warm gown, confusion and maybe a bit of intrigue flit over Regina's face as she follows Fanchon's commands.

"Step out a bit, get some air before bed, Pitit."

And Fanchon is gone, moving back into the bedchambers, leaving the doors slightly ajar.

For a brief moment, Regina seems to just relax, to breathe, her face losing all expression in the dying light. Emma puzzles at how to make her presence known, without scaring the woman to bits.

She lightly clears her throat and Regina whirls on her.

"Goodness!" She whispers out with a startled breath.

"Hi." Emma smiles, and gulps, and fights to swallow the tears that well and beg to fall as Regina's face lights up at the sight of her.

"Emma!" And she is wrapped up in a delicious bear hug. "Oh, Emma!" Regina buries her face in Emma's neck, and the feel of the woman who has not left her mind for even a second over the last dozen hours, bundled within both her arms, simply overwhelms her. Emma relishes the feel of their bodies pressed close, those curves against her own, the woodsy scent of Regina's dark, tumbling hair, the tingle of warm breath at her neck. Her grip around the young woman—and Regina's around Emma—is too much, she knows—disproportionate to their 'brief' acquaintance, but it seems that neither one of them could possibly care less.

"Oh, I am so very glad to see you." Regina moves herself back, far enough to gaze openly at the blonde before her, to pull the cloak completely from Emma's head, and run slender fingers through the hair framing her face, moving it out of eyes that study her. "I've been longing for this, you know. From the moment we parted."

Emma's eyes move to Regina's lips, speaking words that Emma had longed to hear from _her_ Regina, tumbling unedited from _this_ Regina. Her full, red lips parted in happiness, the familiar scar softening within the wide smile. As she watches, Emma knows her thoughts are transparent to the younger woman, but she cannot stop herself. Until she remembers…

_Engaged._

"I…" Emma paused, pushing back the reality she hoped for, in favor of the reality before her. "I understand there is a wedding in your future." She tries to sound excited. She tries, but with Regina so close…

The young woman steps abruptly out of their embrace and crossing her own two arms over her chest, is instantly rigid, more removed than Emma has ever seen her. Here.

With eyes that speak only of heartbreak, and nothing of an expectant young love, Regina's voice drops and all she says is, "Yes."

Emma feels the distance growing between them, a vast ocean of unfulfilled possibilities stretching from one side of the balcony to the other. Its waters were treacherous, unforgiving, and filled with nothing but regret, and bad timing, and she imagined that they _both_ looked to be drowning under the loss of that which had felt so possible.

"Regina?" Emma speaks with great care, as she has once or twice, to that more formidable woman, the one she knows better, understands more. When under duress, she had learned to deal with _that_ Regina as one might a wounded lion, all angry twitches and claws sharp with retribution. For the first time here, Regina turns her back to Emma.

Instead of the simmering rage Emma is bracing for, a small, helpless voice speaks painfully, "It's not what I want."

"No?" Emma's heart began to pound.

_Thud, thud._

Regina shook her head with vehemence, running both hands through her hair as though to shake herself clear of the future she was imagining.

"You can tell me." Emma held her breath. "You can tell me anything."

/

Regina is terrified. She desperately wants to believe, but what if…

But Emma has come to her. She's come to visit, just like she'd promised. If Regina but turns around, there she'd be. An open, bright light radiating back to her. Emma will help, she knows it. No matter how insane it might seem to trust this woman who should feel like a stranger, it doesn't feel crazy at all. She has only to turn around. And so she does.

She must wear the fear of it all on her face, for in two quick strides, Emma is beside her, holding her face between gentling hands, her gaze insinuating and unavoidable. Emma wants her to believe, too.

"I will do anything to keep you safe. Do you hear me? Anything. If he has hurt you…"

Regina lays two fingers on Emma's lips with a "No." And she is lost for a moment, has lost her train of thought at the feel of Emma's lips beneath her fingertips. And then she finds it a simple shift to let her fear fall away, in favor of assuring Emma. "It isn't that. We've had no such meetings." With a sad lift of her brow, she adds, "Though I suppose we will. Soon."

"You don't love him?" Emma searches her eyes for answers, and Regina gladly opens herself up to the quest.

"No, oh, no. I do not."

But she can see Emma isn't finished.

"Is there another?" The blonde asks, quieter now. So quiet.

Regina smiles sadly. "There was. Some time ago." She shakes her head slowly, wanting to tell her everything, but needing to tell her only this. "He… died."

She sees the compassion knit at Emma's brow, as another question blossoms.

"May I?" Emma asks, as she motions to the bottom of Regina's dress, one hand prepared to hitch the fabric up. Regina stiffens, for if Emma _is_ a King's spy, this will be the moment that might well get her killed. She nods. At her permission, Emma pulls the dress up just high enough to reveal the black cloth tied at the ankle. She looks at it, and then met Regina's gaze.

"I… I have been forbidden to mourn publicly." Regina tries to stop the catch in her voice, but it rumbles out anyway.

"What happened?" Emma's beautiful face is all concern and worry and Regina yearns to tell her everything, but the less Emma understands about Daniel, the safer she remains.

And so Regina shakes her head and smiles a shy smile.

"A story for another day." She realizes that she is keenly aware of Emma's hands, one still at her back, steadying her, and the other still clutching at the fabric of her dressing gown.

"Are you planning to let me have my gown back?" She hopes the slight jab will lessen the tension.

Emma releases her and moves to step quickly away, but Regina keeps her near with one hand on her arm.

"Don't." Regina blinks to clear her head, because now all she sees is Emma, and her loving face and her mouth so near. "It's been nearly a year now. I have… other reasons not to wed Leopold."

"Yeah?" Emma's face grows less careworn, almost hopeful, and Regina can't help but reach out and touch her cheek.

"Yes." Regina sighs and continues. "I'm not his choice either. He doesn't care for me."

"How? How is that possible?" Emma replies in disbelief. "I would…" Emma hesitates, stops what sounds like the beginning of a declaration and Regina very much wants to hear the end. For Emma's gaze is undoing her, and she feels her equilibrium falter, wanting only to fall into those eyes and never, ever surface.

"What would you?" She encourages, holding her breath.

"I would slay dragons for you, Regina." Emma starts, and as she continues, her voice builds in strength and Regina is enrapt, "I would," She seems to laugh a bit, as though she, too, is surprised at her words, "… jump through flames and fire, face angry mobs, challenge any ally, travel through time, and space, and fight armies if _I _could be with you." She faces Regina fully and leans in, so that she may whisper and be heard quite clearly.

"Regina, I really want to kiss you. May I?" Her breath, her voice at Regina's ear, her words, her body close and warm, conspire and consume every sense and all caution and it is all Regina can do to nod.

But Emma does not kiss her lips, she simply moves still closer and kisses below Regina's ear, down the line of her neck, pushes her mouth within the folds of the gown. A hand is employed to move aside the fabric, and fingers, then her lips travel over Regina's clavicle, caressing and nuzzling and, with a start, Regina's eyes go wide, as Emma's tongue tastes her, her skin growing hot and tingling and her entire body responding in a deep shudder.

"God, Emma." She hears herself moan out.

Emma presses, and together they step into the dark of the balcony. Regina is grateful for the solid wall behind her. She swims beneath the passionate attention and willingly drops her head back with a sigh, exposing more of her throat. Soft lips pull and plunder at her while strong arms hold her up as she grows breathless, feeling her knees weakening and threatening to fold.

Regina feels herself slipping under a haze of desire so thick it feels like it might consume her. The current between she and Emma, the same she'd felt in the market, is growing in intensity, and its more than she ever imagined, or every experienced and the thrumming in her veins is loud and insistent and suddenly, suddenly, it all seems, too much.

Regina tenses and squirms, and Emma stops instantly. As they separate, Emma's eyes struggle to focus, to fix her gaze on Regina, trying to assess what happened.

"Are you…? Regina. What, what did I do?" Emma's misplaced guilt is etched across her face.

"No, no. It's all right, I just…" Stepping back into her, Regina wants to rid her of that guilt, and she instead steps accidentally—forcefully—onto Emma's boot.

The reaction is… unexpected.

"Oh, shit!" Emma grabs at her knee, lifting her leg up and scurries away, hopping and cursing under her breath.

"Emma?"

"I uh…" Emma slaps a hand to her own forehead and moans. "Oh, man!" She breathes out a hugely exaggerated sigh, hops around some more. Unsure what is happening, let alone what to do, Regina can only stand and watch. "I have a little, thing, from earlier. I kinda forgot about it."

"A… thing?"

"A wound, I think."

"You're wounded? Emma!" And Regina falls to her knees, but she can't see the cut in the dark, only that Emma's boot is sliced through. She stands and shifts her body under Emma's arm so that she can balance against her. She feels the warmth along her side, the body leaning into her own, leaning probably more than necessary, and Regina can't help the smile at her lips.

"You idiot. Let's get you inside."

tbc

**A/N: Lovelies, I'm humbled and deeply grateful to all of you delicious people for the tremendous response to this story. Thanks to each and every one for the follows, the favorites, the thoughtful reviews, and just for checking it out. Hope you enjoy the ride with me. **

**xo,**

**last**


	4. Chapter 4

Before Regina has even managed to maneuver the two of them in front of the doors to her room, Fanchon is there. _Someone_ has been keeping an eye on things. The nurse pulls the doors open only enough to put her head out.

"What is it? What's going on?"

Regina puffs, "Let us in, Fanchon, she's hurt." Turning back to Emma, Regina looks into Emma's eyes—deep green against the lantern light. She's grateful for the small smile Emma gives her when she's obviously not feeling herself.

Looking back to Fanchon, she feels Emma lean against her yet more, and worries the two will soon be tumbling to the ground before long. At the thought, a slight blush colors Regina's cheeks, though the darkness hides it. Her body still hums from their interlude, and having Emma's strong form beneath her fingers, literally within her arms, is distracting at the very least. The woman smells of leather, and the cool night. Beneath that, a tangy musk that invades Regina's senses and makes her question the wisdom of their entering her bedchamber at all.

_But of course, there is always Fanchon…_

Fanchon seems to have found even injury suspect, looking Emma up and down. "Why? Where?"

Regina stomps her foot and presses she and Emma forward. "That's quite unnecessary, Fanchon. Move aside, please." She doesn't have to push Fanchon much, before the nurse gets a glimpse of the bloody gape that had once been an intact boot. She takes up Emma's other side and they walk her into the room.

"This isn't really necessary." Emma's protest is said with a smile, and absolutely no interest in changing the course of events. She's clearly enjoying the attention even if she doesn't need it.

Having settled her into a large armchair, Regina jumps immediately to work, kneeling before Emma and trying to determine the least painful way to remove the boot.

"I'm _so_ sorry I stepped on your foot." Regina grins up at her. "You do seem somewhat accident prone, however."

Emma grins back, "I got distracted."

"Mmhmmn." Regina nods and her brow quirks with a flirty lift.

"Fanchon, can you bring me some water and my spirits to tend to her, please?" Regina tries to convey calm and collected, but as a trickle of blood leaks from the boot, she pales.

"Pitit, I can…" Fanchon steps up to offer her services, and is silenced with a quick, sharp retort.

"The tinctures." Regina's voice is strong and low and firm, and her glare tells Fanchon she'll brook no quarrel. The nurse finally hurries off.

When Regina looks meets Emma's gaze, the woman wears the strangest smile, one of recognition and surprise.

"What?" Regina asks.

Emma just shakes her head.

"Nothing. You just…" Emma's lips shut tight. "You're cute."

Regina lifts a brow at her before returning to her task. She places a hand gently on a leather-covered knee. Emma starts and it's a bit unexpected, for Regina knows well that the woman is watching her every move.

"Does _that_ hurt?" She queries.

"No. It's fine."

She hears Emma breathe out a heavy sigh, and looks up to meet her eyes once more. Emma seems…

_unsure? _

"Let me know, all right?" Regina furrows her brow and puts both hands on the boot… and starts to tug.

/

Emma flinches lightly, but she's far too swept up in the sight before her to feel any actual pain. Regina, quietly tending to her, dark hair flowing down her back, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Her hands have pulled the boot from her, and fingertips are working on the torn, wet sock, which is sticking to flesh. As Regina tries to pluck the fabric clear of the wound, her sumptuous skin loses a shade or two of color. Emma leans forward.

"I'll do it." Emma offers and bends down across her own knee to remove the sock.

Their faces are close. So close she feels Regina's sweet breath on her cheek. Emma can't help her eyes traveling to the lips, that scar. The urge to kiss that scar, to draw those lips between her own, to taste the woman before her, nearly topples Emma from her chair.

Having shared but a single kiss with Regina in Neverland, Emma finds she is aching for more. Moments before she'd only just stopped herself from delivering a kiss to _this_ Regina that she'd imagined would have been confusing for both of them. At the moment, she very much wishes that she had not held back, but there is so much Emma wants to say with their next kiss. So much that she's worried is actually rooted in another time, another relationship even, no matter how right this felt.

It was too one-sided. It was too soon.

_wasn't it?_

Regina, though, dark eyes shining, looks at her with…

_oh, boy…_

Beneath the neckline of her gown, Regina's chest rises rapidly and the two move closer.

"Emma…" The low voice makes Emma tingle. Absolutely everywhere.

Fanchon bursts back into the room, all noise and elbows, inserting herself between them.

"This should do it." Fanchon speaks too loudly, and thrusts a basket of small bottles at Regina, before looking them both over as though they could easily have stripped, consummated their relationship, and rearranged themselves right where she'd left them, all within her one-minute absence, "Nothing fell off in here, well I was gone, yes? No clothes and whatnot?"

"All parts accounted for Fanchon, apart from what was once my boot." Emma says wryly. Then, to make a point. "Though, Regina and I _are_ expecting a baby."

Fanchon looks aghast. Regina snorts and laughs as she shakes her head at the two of them.

Emma decides there and then that the delighted twinkle in Regina's eyes is worth anything and everything this adventure of hers might cost. And, that it was time to take the next step.

"Fanchon, could you give us another minute?" Emma asks, not at all sure she wasn't going to get smacked.

Fanchon folds her arms across her chest.

"Very funny." The woman said, her mouth flat.

"I wasn't joking."

"Not in her bedchamber I won't."

"Fanchon, I'm bleeding over here, right? Nothing… unseemly is going to happen." Emma appeals. "I just really need to talk to Regina. Privately."

Regina takes up the call, eyes flashing with curiosity and equally eager, it seems, to extend their time alone.

"Fanchon, please. Step into the hall, or stay in the ensuite if you'd like. We're fine here."

Fanchon sniffs, but backs out of the room with a warning glare at Emma.

"Ten minutes." She calls back with a last lob.

Emma throws the woman a double thumbs up and a big grin as the door closes behind her.

Finally, she can again turn her full attention to Regina.

"Sit up here, huh?" Emma puts her hands on Regina's shoulders, encouraging her to stop focusing on the cut, sit up, and to take a seat in the chair opposite. "You shouldn't be getting all messy."

Emma knows she is being watched as she finishes cleaning the wound using the same bottles that Regina has pulled from the basket. Looking for a bandage though, she finds only a black strip of cloth that looks distressingly similar to the one Regina wears. Bent forward, Emma can see the matching cloth peeking from under Regina's gown.

"Is this okay with you?" Emma asks, feeling the solidarity of the action, yet concerned that it might also seem terribly presumptuous.

Regina nods silently as a flicker of loss travels over her face.

Emma ties the bandage snugly, and pulls her boot back on, determinedly not revealing the discomfort she feels. She takes up the soiled rag and pockets it, as she doesn't wish to upset Regina with its presence any longer. All those stories Emma knows of a _bloodthirsty_ Evil Queen gallop through her mind. Looking at the thoughtful woman before her, she can't fathom the enormity of the pain that must have preceded such a transformation.

Emma shakes off her thoughts, trying to stay present, and looks for something to do with the small basin of now bloodied water when Regina speaks.

"May I ask you something?" The low voice is quiet and Regina's eyes are dark and shy when their gazes meet.

"Yeah. Anything." Emma replies.

"I asked you at the market—and you told me, I guess…" Regina tilts her head just so, and the familiarity of the move makes Emma's stomach flip. "Who are you, really?" Regina leaned in, animated. "Where did you come from? And why do I…" She clenches her hands as they fly to her heart, " Why do I… feel like I do?"

"Like what?" Emma can't stop herself. She wants to hear.

"Like I've know you forever. Like we have a _history_ – A complicated history, I think. Challenging, but full of good things, too." A rising blush colors Regina's cheeks. "You make me happy. How in the world is it that you make me happy?"

Emma wants to fall apart under the weight of that question. So much for staying present. She knows that _her_ Regina has always, always been looking for some kind of happiness and has always, always, failed desperately in her attempts—often at her own hand.

At the lake, as they kissed, the feeling that she make Regina happy, even for just a moment, had been overwhelming. Here was a younger and much less world-weary Regina confessing the same particular reaction. If happiness had been so unattainable and absent since Regina had been, what, 24, 25, and a lack of happiness had been customary, expected, for all this long, long time… It was enough to break Emma's heart. Of course, the fact that Regina was willing to take from, and to try and give happiness to her also made _Emma_ happy. Maybe between them, there would be enough to go around.

"I'm so glad I do." Emma chokes out. Regina's look says clearly that she needs to elaborate. "Okay, okay. I _am_ in the Enchanted Forest, right? All kinds of crazy things go on here, like, regularly."

"'Crazy'?" Regina looks concerned.

"You know, like ogres, and talking animals, and portals, and magic. Stuff like that."

It is at the word 'magic' that Regina visibly blanches. Her voice drops, fear weaving through its layers.

"Did magic bring you here?" Regina rushes out.

"Well, I guess it did." And Emma recognizes that Regina is constructing a familiar wall, from the ground up. She can actually see her build it and higher with every passing breath.

Regina's jaw sets and Emma recognizes the first spark of genuine anger rising in her.

"Did my mother send you?"

"No!" Emma says firmly, then too familiarly. "God, no."

Regina hears the recognition.

"But you know her? My mother." Her face is drawn and tight. Regina is terrified.

Emma feels her thoughts stumbling, not ready for this part of the conversation. Not yet.

"I… I've heard of…" She couldn't lie to her. "She doesn't have anything to do with my being here."

Regina was disappearing before her eyes, as the quickly constructed walls of self-protection were rising high enough to ensure the young woman could vanish.

"Prove it." She demands.

"Okay." Emma replies, and searches for an option. "How?"

"Explain to me right now about this feeling I have when I'm near you. Is magic involved? Are you using magic on me?"

"No! Now just wait. Let me…" Emma breathes deeply. "I was saying earlier about portals?" Regina just listens, brow furrowed. "Well, I went through one, and I dropped into that market."

"I figured that out already."

"So, yeah, well, anywhere else I've been in my life, this would sound nuts, but," Regina will get this, right? "The portal… I'm from another time, the future."

"You are?" Regina said, excitement creeping into her voice.

"Yeah. Well, I guess so. I mean, you're older there." Regina's brows lift in tandem, clearly plenty surprised by that, Enchanted Forest or no. "You and I we… kinda know each other." She searches, feeling stupid and ill prepared… "In the future."

"So the reason I feel this…" Regina begins to puzzle it through and her eyes go wide as her head tilts down. She looks up at Emma shyly, through her eyelashes. "Is because we _know_ each other?"

"No!" Emma squeaks out, and she shoots out of her chair, starting to pace, needing distance. "I mean we care about each other. A lot. But, we're just kind of figuring that part out."

"We are?" Regina's brows dip down, trying to imagine what it all means.

"Yeah." Emma gives her a winning smile, trying to cover her own blush. "And, um, I think we maybe really have something…"

"What?" Regina sounds afraid to ask.

Emma smile broadens. "_Really_ good. For both of us."

A lone tear slips down Regina's face.

"And it's… not about magic? Not at all?"

"It's just about us, Regina."

"How is that possible?"

"Easy." Emma says with a shrug. "We're enough." And she chuckles. "Believe me."

As Regina looks at her, a thousand thoughts race across her face, and Emma finds she's again gotten lost in that open, expressive face. And that she is so grateful it has reappeared, replacing the wall of fear and worry with a gaze of wonder and possibility.

Emma drops back down to the ground and kneels before Regina. She wants to babble on about how beautiful she thinks Regina is, how amazing, and how glad she is she can finally say some of the things that keep her up at night, but she doesn't. It's definitely too soon to hear all of that.

_Isn't it? _

Instead, Emma lets the love fall from her eyes. She uses her thumb, her palm, to wipe away that tear, to caress that face, to touch and heal and assure, and the beaming smile she receives in return floods her heart with gratitude, and she draws Regina to her. She wraps her arms about the smaller woman with an embrace that tells her what she can't yet with her words. She must leave no doubt in Regina that she is _real_. That she is _here_. Emma will need Regina to trust her utterly for the times she imagines are ahead.

"Is she up?!"

_oh, hell_

Cora's powerful voice pierces the quiet. On the other side of the door, in the hallway, she's met up with Fanchon.

Emma and Regina separate, both showing their shock and dismay. They hear Fanchon without, engaging Cora in conversation, buying them time. Regina stands and hurriedly tries to usher Emma out to the balcony, while Emma tries to get Regina to climb into bed, but there isn't time for either and the door opens.

Regina is jumping beneath the covers and Emma dropping to the floor on all fours, on the far side of the bed, as the door swings open.

Neither moves.

The very energy of the room shifts. What has been a space of peace and love is suddenly awash with danger and an aching sense of inevitable despair. Emma recognizes the feeling as the same that would permeate the lives of the abused women who would sometimes seek her help. The same one she felt as a child with foster parents that cultivated more rage than care.

Emma closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop pounding

_so. goddamn. loud._

She can't see Cora, which hopefully means Cora can't see her, but Emma knows she simply must not be discovered. Must not make a sound.

And the scabbard Emma had taken from the young soldier starts to shift at her waist. She watches it as it settles into its awkward new position. She wills it to not give her away.

"What's been going on in here?" Cora's voice cuts across the stillness, roughened satin. Though it holds none of the heat of Regina's intoxicating, nuanced voice, Emma hadn't realized how similar they could sound until this moment.

"Nothing, Mother. I was just going to bed."

"And this?" Emma feels Cora moving, no doubt to the chairs and fireplace where the bowl of bloodied water, their triage station, calls Regina a liar. "What is _**this**_, Regina?" Cora's voice drops dangerously low.

"I." Regina is stumbling, "…hurt myself. Fanchon was helping me. I'm sure she'll be back directly to clean up. Fanchon!" Regina calls out with desperation.

"Where?" Cora demands. Off her daughter's silence, "_**Where**_ did you hurt yourself?"

"My… my ankle." Regina speaks with dread, a frightened child having replaced the grown woman. Blankets shift and she is no doubt showing the 'proof' before moving her ankle back under the sheets. "It's nothing that won't be fine by the morning."

Cora throws the sheets and Regina's dressing gown off of her body, the coverlet hitting Emma in the side of her head as it falls over the edge of the bed.

The scabbard shifts again, precariously close to swinging from her hip and clattering against the floor.

"Silly girl." Cora rumbles. "Heal it."

Emma feels the magic in the room as it leaves Cora's hand.

The cloth at Regina's ankle must have fallen away in the process.

"You're not to wear rags, Regina. Ever. Please try and remember your place in the world."

"Yes, Mother. Of course."

Emma's back muscles, constricted and stationary too long, twitch and the scabbard begins to roll off her back. In full panic, Emma realizes that she has one, and only one option, her sole thought to protect Regina. She closes her eyes, and wills herself from the room.

/

The scabbard clangs to the floor below with a loud crash, too loud for a castle bedroom floor covered with thick rugs.

Emma opens one eye. She shuts it.

_thank god_

Emma opens both eyes and stands up. Amazingly enough, she's successfully transported herself from Regina's bedchamber right into the tiny room she's rented at the nearby inn.

As much relief as she feels, as much

_holy shit _

she marvels at while realizing she'd just done something truly extraordinary, what Emma felt most was guilt. She's not only left Regina alone with her mother when it was far from clear that the woman wouldn't still exact some punishment upon her child, no, she's also left Regina with the knowledge that not only does Emma know more than she'd intimated about magic. She possesses it.

_hell, I can even __**feel**__ it._

She thinks as she recalls the moment Cora used magic. Emma had become attuned to magic. Could feel it reverberate through the…

And certainly, if Emma could feel it from Cora, well, Cora could feel it from her…

_fuck._

Standing stock still, Emma tries to focus her thoughts, to get herself back to Regina's. To just 'poof' herself back. Her wills herself. She struggles, stomps her feet and squeezes her eyes shut. Herr mind is racing, she's too scattered. Now, she's got one _other_ option.

She pulls the door of her room open and runs at full speed back towards the castle.

_Coming next week… _

Regina doesn't escape Cora quite so easily. Can Emma's magic help to unite she and Regina… or will it destroy them both?


	5. Chapter 5

Emma's legs feel like lead as she runs, unable to move fast enough, get her back to the castle, back to Regina,

_Go go go go go go go go go go go!_

As she quickly rounds the last corner of the stone wall separating the castle grounds from the town, she is jerked from her feet and winds up on her butt in the dark of a shadowed nook. She has time to work the dagger from her good boot before the face of her assailant appears before her.

"Fanchon!" Emma whispers out with irritation, lowering her weapon.

"Don't you, 'Fanchon' me!" The woman's stubby fingers are in Emma's face… and wrapped around a longer, sharper dagger than that which Emma had lowered—perhaps too quickly. "Where did you go? HOW did you go, huh?" As Emma struggles to formulate an answer under the point of the knife, the nurse moves closer, now nose-to-nose with the Savior, the tip of the blade tapping under her chin. "More important, WHY did you go? Answer me." Fanchon looks more than ready to run her through if Emma's answer doesn't suit her.

Emma's intuition about Fanchon now certainly seems spot on. The woman may be a maiden's nurse, but she was no one to trifle with—even if Emma had wanted to. For now though, Emma needed to know what had happened. She shakes her head at Fanchon slowly, careful of the tip of the blade.

"I didn't mean to abandon her. I was _trying_ to not make everything worse – right? Being discovered in her room? What the hell happened? Where's Cora?"

"I think you are not what I thought." Fanchon snarls, low and angry, "Just as bad as the others."

"No! I'd never harm her, Fanchon, you _have_ to believe me!" Emma feels her desperation rise as the seconds tick past, as the drawn face of Regina's nurse makes it clear something very bad has occurred, as she hears the words 'the others' and worries at what other dreadful power besides her own mother Regina is being subjected to.

"WHY? Why not? If it serves you to do it?" Fanchon bites out, disgusted.

"I will NOT be served by Regina being hurt." Emma is adamant, her own anger rising. "Dammit, I'm here to save her and, frankly? You're wasting my time!"

Fanchon presses the tip of the blade and Emma is sure that skin has broken. "What do you mean 'save her?' Who are you to do such a thing?"

"I'm the Savior, goddammit! Now get off me."

Fanchon's eyes go wide and she looks hard into Emma, sussing out any falsehood. Finding none, Emma feels the blade ease from her throat.

"You?" The woman's eyes narrow, but there is a new understanding dawning, and Fanchon sits back on her haunches.

"Me." Emma crawls out from beneath the woman and stands to her full height. "Where do I go? Where is she?"

"You magicked away and all hell break loose."

"Then I need to get back to her. Tell me right now, Fanchon."

"Magic yourself again." Fanchon flips her hand at Emma, dismissing her request.

"I can't!" Emma is shaking with frustration and impatience, but Fanchon has to be appeased. "Or maybe I can. Hell if I know. I just learned I even had this bullshit inside of me and I have no earthly idea how to use it. Now help me." Her eyes plead and Emma doesn't care that Fanchon can hear the fear in her voice. Emma knows, can _feel _Regina is in pain. She _has _to go." "PLEASE."

"You're going the wrong direction. She's not in the castle." Fanchon is back on her feet and back in Emma's face.

"Well where the hell is she?"

"Her mother has taken her. And you're going to get her back, Savior, or I'll kill you myself."

/

The dank smell of wet dirt, decomposing garbage, rotting flesh, and a darkness long untouched by sun makes Regina's stomach roll for the tenth time in as many minutes. The cold dampness causes a shiver to run through her. It blooms deep within her bones, quaking her to the very core. The thin shift she still wears, without the dressing gown atop, and without other covering, is no match for this chill.

The woman she hears a few cells away, whimpering unceasingly, and calling for help, however, is surely the most distressing of all her present circumstances.

"Madame?" Regina tries again to call out to her, hoping she can offer some solace, though she has only her presence to offer. "Please, can you answer me?"

There is a shuddering sob and then a strangled gasp. Then silence.

Silence.

The terrifying thought, easily a reality, is that Regina has just heard the poor woman's dying breath.

"Madam?" She calls again, more quietly, as her hope fades and her fears rise. She falls to her knees on the dirt floor of the cell, tears coming as the silent seconds become minutes, each one reinforcing the dire truth of Regina's predicament. Bearing quiet, helpless witness to another death, a death that was as pointless and cruel as any of the many deaths and punishments she'd witnessed at her own mother's hand.

"Madame?" Regina says, one final time, as she bows her head, closes her eyes and tries to shake off the selfish, fatalist thought that is settling within—how long she, herself, will last in this deep, dark cold.

A thud, a quietly hissed, "Ack!" draws her attention to the other side of the darkness. The voice is familiar.

And unwelcome.

"Regina?"

Emma is here, moving through the dungeon, seeking her out, calling out to her like a fool.

"Shhhh!" She says to shut the woman up.

"Regina!" Emma is outside her cell, looking strong and safe. And warm

And none the worse for wear. Unlike Regina.

"Be quiet!" She states more succinctly. Trying to not get caught up in how her heart betrays her, lurches at the sight the woman before her. This same woman abandoned and lied to her. "There are ears in this place."

Emma stands silently before her, arms at her side, looking penitent.

"What do you want?"

Emma almost laughs aloud in response at that, but she says nothing, just waves her hands about and up, as if to say, 'To get you out of here, obviously.'

"Never mind." Regina snaps out, angry. "I don't know that I care what you want, actually. But, I do need you to go to a cell somewhere over there. There is a woman who may actually want and need your help. Please check on her."

Emma obviously hasn't expected this, but she jumps to complete Regina's request. As she fades into the darkness, Regina immediately feels her absence. She hears Emma's quiet approach to the cell, a shuffle as though Emma has kneeled. More shuffles, more movement, then silence.

Moments later, Emma reappears before her, mouth downturned. She shakes her head.

"Oh, no." Regina says mostly to herself as she moves to the back of her cell.

Regina sits on the stone slab that is supposed to serve as her bed. It is terribly cold, but this time the cold is bracing, and she doesn't mind. The woman is dead.

"I'm sorry." Whispers Emma with the softest of voices.

Regina looks up and demands that Emma return her gaze.

"You used magic." Regina says in recrimination, the last word leaving the bitter taste of poison in her mouth. As distressed as she is by the actions of the woman before her, she finds herself yet willing to hear Emma's story.

Emma starts to flail her arms as though they are playing a spirited game of charades. Regina loses the woman's intention quickly and breathes out, exasperated.

"_Speak_, Emma. Just try to use a little discretion, will you?"

Emma steps closer, as close as she can with the bars between them. She grabs the metal in both hands and pushes as much of her face through the gap as possible.

"I'm sorry, Regina. I didn't even know I could do what I did."

Regina lifts her brow in disbelief, and folds her arms over her chest. She feels her near nakedness profoundly as Emma is gazing back at her. Regina watches as the woman steadfastly avoids inspecting her more closely, though she's clearly realized that Regina is vulnerable to such investigation.

"Using magic… hell, _magic_, is very new to me, and I only used it because I thought that if your mother found me in your room, we'd… be… well, here."

"_I'd_ be here, you mean?" Regina quickly challenged Emma's perception of their current problem.

"Right." Emma replies meekly.

It's impossible, Regina thinks, to deny the fact that the woman seems to be telling the truth, her reactions to situations as innocent as a child at times. But there are great pieces of her story missing, and Regina needs to understand everything if she imagines herself trusting another as deeply as she yearns to trust Emma.

She cocks her head at her.

"Can you get us out here?" Regina doesn't dare hope, and she doesn't want to pin her faith on magic, ever. But, Cora…

For her part, Emma stands up straighter, and begins to move her features about. With squints and quirks, her brow wrinkling, nose crinkling, Emma appears as though she's trying to will her magic through the eye of a needle. When Emma's knees start to bend, Regina finds it hard to suppress a grin.

"I don't think that's going to work." She offers, and Emma looks defeated but for a moment, until she draws her sword from its scabbard.

"More than one way to get out." Emma says confidently.

"Is there?" Regina asks lightly. "You're a skilled swordsman?"

"Swordswoman." Emma's chest puffs out.

"Yes, I caught that."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know Regina, but, could you…" Emma looks lost and so solitary there outside the bars, the flickering light of a solitary torch revealing her eyes only enough to see the yearning the swims in them.

Heaving a sigh, Regina rises and moves back to the bars, back within Emma's presence. When the woman puts her hand through the bars, Regina hesitates.

"How did you find me?"

"That hellion nurse of yours found _me_. Thankfully."

Regina laughs at that, and knowing how carefully Fanchon shares confidences, she takes up Emma's hand. She finds herself not a little overwhelmed by the feel of the warm grasp. The heat of Emma seems to reach through the bars, removing the chill. Seems to warm Regina, even from within.

"You're freezing." Emma starts. She drops her hand and removes the cloak she wears, passing it to Regina through the bars. "Put it on."

Regina does, and momentarily allows the smell and feel of the woman she wishes she could once more hold in her arms. Emma puts her hand back through the bars with a small smile. Regina takes it up.

"What happened to the guards?"

Emma's eyes shift guiltily.

"They're… sleeping."

Regina nods, knowingly. "I see." She strokes Emma's hand with hers, and the woman responds with a squeeze.

"Where's your mother, Regina?"

"Not far, certainly."

"What happened in your room?" Emma's voice is tinged with enough fear of Regina's answer that she imagines her answer should only be silence, reassurance.

Instead, she finds herself telling Emma everything.

_Emma is gone and everything changes. Regina feels her heart plummet as Cora transforms as the whisper of spent magic fills the chamber. Instantly, Cora becomes expansive, enormous, her being swallowing up every bit of love and light that the room had held but moments ago. _

"_WHO was that?" Cora is livid. Regina has rarely seen her so outwardly angry, but she can also not recall her mother ever being caught unawares. Emma surprised her. As she surprised Regina. _

"_Wha… what, mother? What is it?" She tries to feign ignorance, though she worries immediately that it is the worst choice she could have made. _

"_Don't you **DARE** toy with me!" Cora is red-faced and screaming, spittle flying and landing on Regina's cheeks, in her eyes. She raises her two hands and Regina is hurled at the fireplace, her shift nearly catching fire before she scrabbles to draw the material closer to her body, suspended above the flames. "__**WHO WAS **__**IT**__!?"_

"_Nobody, mother." Regina sobs, easily, for she may actually be telling the truth. "Nobody." _

"_You WILL tell me what I want to know!" And Regina feels the heat of the fire grow as her mother moves her deeper within the brick arch of the gaping, hot fireplace. _

"_Stop! Mother! Please!" Regina cries as the heat intensifies and she fears she'll pass out. _

_And then she is hurled to the wood floor. _

_Voices at the door._

"_She was having a nightmare, the poor thing." Cora is attending to Leopold, who has come to wish Regina a good night, only to happen upon the commotion within. Now, surely, Leopold wouldn't normally bother with the goings on between mother and daughter, but his brother is accompanying him, and the prince was distressed at the situation. Leopold stopped to inquiry if he could help. As he had suspected, he could not. _

"_My apologies to you both." Regina hears Leopold say. _

"_Surely the Maiden Regina will have a more restful slumber from here on, what with her mother near. Big days ahead. She needs her sleep." _

_And Leopold, and the prince, are gone. Regina stays still on the floor, waiting for her mother's next move. _

_Before her next breath, Regina is whisked out of her room. _

"_Help me." The woman calls. Again and again, "Help me. Help me. Help me."_

"My mother's cloaked magic in here." Regina looks down at their joined hands, unwilling to look into Emma's eyes. "I can't use mine either."

"Oh, Regina." Emma voice is but a whisper.

Regina extracts her hand and Emma allows it, though she leaves her two hands inside the bars. Waiting.

"It must seem strange to you. It's just her way." Regina turns back to Emma briefly, then with a forced smile, "I'm used to it."

A single tear tracks down Emma's cheek. Another follows. Another. Regina steps to her, and takes up the offered hands, though she continues to avoid the beautiful eyes she knows are trained on her.

"I don't want your pity." She manages to say, "I want you to know who you're dealing with." Finally, she lifts her head, and their eyes meet. Emma is still crying silently. Regina uses the sleeve of her shift to wipe a tear from the blonde's devastated gaze.

"Shhh. It's all right." Even as she says it, Regina shakes her head. She knows well enough that it is far from all right. Yet, it is her fate. Her life. The only one she has. Emma has brought happiness into it, even if that happiness was for but a fleeting moment. Regina smiles sadly, remembering their tryst on the balcony, the moment in the market, the connection that pulses between them even now.

"No." Emma croaks out, and her jaw tightens under Regina's hand. "It is about as far from all right as you can get." Two hands move up to Regina's shoulders and urge her to look closely, to pay attention.

"Listen to me, Regina." Emma swallows the sadness that had seemed so near to overtaking her. "Don't sacrifice yourself for me. Never again. I can handle Cora."

Regina can't help but laugh at that, a defeated, but appreciative laugh at the hope of the woman before her.

"Nobody _handles_ my mother." Regina states flatly, but she's intrigued by the spark of defiance she sees in Emma, "What? What do you know?"

"I can…" Emma starts, but she seems tripped up by the presence of the bars between them, as if she's only truly noticed them for the first time. "Goddammit!" She yells, and waves her hands about and suddenly…

She and Regina are inside the cell. Together.

"What the hell?" Emma says, and she tries the bars. Locked.

"Emma?" Regina is practically sparking, feeling a rush of possibility and wonder. If Emma can get in…

Emma waves her arms again, clearly trying to reverse the process. She grabs up Regina's hand and does it again. Nothing.

"Maybe if we close our eyes." Emma is grasping at anything, everything.

Nothing.

"Well." Regina says softly. Hope deflating again. But perhaps a spot of brightness still lingers.

"Well." Emma answers. She stops swinging her arms and turns to look at Regina fully. "_Something_ happened."

Regina nods, graciously, and stands with her hands folded before her.

/

Emma wants nothing more than to take Regina in her arms. Now that she can, though, she waits. She looks in the stormy gaze of the woman before her. Regina's life, her whole existence, everything before or after their first meeting on the Mayor's walk that night in Storybrooke, everything about the Evil Queen, the woman she thought she was beginning to know, had been called into question.

Emma's imagined what she'd thought was the worst already. An unwelcome, prearranged marriage to an old king, living with a powerful dark witch, but the story she'd just heard of Regina's abuse at Cora's hand was so far beyond her expectations. 'I'm used to it.' And there had been others, and probably worse.

"Regina…" It was all Emma could seem to say. A mantra, just her name, say it again and again to remind them both that they were standing there, real, still alive. And if they were alive, there was still hope.

_right? _

And Emma has even magicked when she wasn't suppose to have been able to. That had to mean something, didn't it?

"Emma." Regina finally answered, the dark clouds finally leaving her eyes. "Please."

Emma needn't be asked again, and she enfolds the smaller woman within her arms, and just hangs on. Oh, to hold her so forever. It is suddenly all Emma wants. All she needs. Just to keep Regina warm and safe. To walk along with her, to help her on her path without the shadow of Cora and her torture dictating a future of pain and loneliness for herself, for so many.

The two of them stand just so, moving incrementally closer to one another each passing second. Soon they are so close that the space between Emma's legs is filled with Regina's thigh, and Emma feels the press of Regina upon her. The heft of warms breasts mold their bodies together in a dizzying push of pounding hearts and yearnings that feel ancient and rich, perhaps even prophesied. No words pass, arms simply filled with the other, senses awash in a vibrating calm that seems at once familiar and fascinating.

And it is nothing but right when Emma moves back enough to take Regina's lips between her own. Soft, cherishing kisses full of trust and longing that have simmered far longer than these two may have known one another, and just may last far longer than anyone can imagine. The Savior tastes what is offered, the Queen worships what is given freely. Sweet and plump and achingly real. Regina groans low in surrender and Emma feels the rumble deep within her, reaching out for more. Hands move slowly up Emma's arms and hold her face as Regina explores her mouth, tongue, teeth. All around them, the current that defines their union hums and beats in spite of any hex Cora may have enacted.

_thud thud_

Regina stops them, pulling away and peering into Emma's bright eyes, fingers tapping with care around them.

"What color _are_ they?" She asks with a huge grin, her own amber eyes lit from within.

"Grue?" Emma answered with a smile. "Bleen?"

They laugh and kiss and fall quickly back into the embrace that makes nothing else in the world matter. Time simply stops. Emma had heard of such phenomena, yet never been party to it. She never, ever wants this moment to end.

"I am quite undone." Regina manages to say, her breath tickling at Emma's ear, which hears the smallest sense of unease.

Emma pulls back, offering her love some space. She tugs her cloak about Regina, even as her palms feel the mark of the voluptuous curves still tingling in memory along her skin. Regina's gaze in reply is straightforward, unflinching. Happy.

_my love. oh, yes._

"I'm not gonna lie. I'm really glad I got in here. However I did." Emma says with a cheeky grin. Regina grins too, but it doesn't last, as the reality of their situation reasserts itself.

"Magic can be tricky."

"So you do have it now?" Emma asks.

"'Now?'" Regina ponders.

"In the room, I heard your mother tell you to heal yourself, but I wasn't sure." Emma trails off, "You didn't try and heal me…"

Regina breathes out with a deep sigh. "I don't ever use it. People want me to, but I don't. I don't like it." She says, her gaze pointedly holds Emma's.

"Really my dear, is it all that bad?"

Cora's unexpected voice shatters their discussion into a thousand shards of sharpened fear. She appears before them, at the other side of the bars. "How cozy." She says, eyeing the two of them, both still clenched within one another.

Emma steps before Regina.

"You're... Emma is it?" Cora says with a sneer. "How distressingly pedestrian." She paces before them. "Well, _Emma_, it seems my dear daughter still has quite a few things to learn before she becomes queen. Fortunately, _you_ are going to help her learn them." And Cora waves Emma into the empty cell opposite Regina. It's locked as soundly as every other.

Emma, nonetheless, tugs at the bars with both hands and growls and tries to get to Cora.

"Fiesty." Cora says with absolutely no conviction. She turns to her daughter. "Never show all your cards dear. I might not have put you two in there together except for that little glimmer of hope you showed me. When will you learn not to put your faith in another, my darling?" Cora purrs out as Regina shrinks back into her cell. "It can only bring… heartache."

And with that, Cora is gone.

tbc

Coming next week: All may not be as it seems within prison walls.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Trigger warning for self-harming thoughts.**_

Emma—Regina discovers, can be intractable. She absolutely refuses to stop. She's been yanking on the bars, tugging at the iron with every ounce of strength, teeth gritted, hair flying around her like a madwoman, climbing halfway up and trying to leverage her body and pulling at them with even her feet. She's even resorted to hurling insults at them,

"Fucking motherfucking… FUCKS!"

But it's her taking _another_ run at the solid bars from the back of her cell, throwing her body against them, the sickening sound of her flesh bruising under the useless and self-induced beating that finally sends Regina over the edge.

"STOP IT!" Regina screams from her cell, across the dirty, dreadful expanse that separates them. She is angry and it is anger that runs deep. "GODDAMN IT! You WILL stop this at ONCE do you understand me, or I will MAKE YOU STOP!"

And Emma stops. She stands and stares back at her. Regina shrinks back, feeling a rising shame in her, for having let Emma witness her temper, for letting her see that part of her that her mother has so meticulously cultivated. Nourished. Since Daniel's death… no, before. How many people has Regina seen her mother mistreat? Her father, servants, the odd merchant, and unlucky visitor. Anyone who crossed her in any way, no matter how slight the trespass. Her mother had made sure they each realized exactly how much 'less' they all were—and exactly how much 'more' she was herself. And sadly, it didn't even matter the what or the who that was her target. It was always terrible, and Regina always witnessed it because that was how Cora wanted it. And in the end, Regina could do nothing but cringe and shrink even as she could feel her mother's hateful hunger for power stake it's claim in _her_. Here was her model, the person she would become.

And Emma barely flinched. Something about her reaction to it is a surprise. Regina's anger is not new, or terrifying to her. Emma looks at her with understanding—like Fanchon—yes, but it's something more than that. Compassion.

No.

Regina's anger is familiar. It's… expected.

Maybe even a little welcome.

Emma's breathing is fast and ragged, sweat is spreading under her arms, down the front of her shirt, dripping from her hairline, down her face and she is wiping it from her eyes.

"Yeah, okay." Emma says in a quiet, almost measured tone.

"Please, I just… Regina stumbles out.

"I don't" Emma grimaces, "like being caged."

"No." Regina nods simply, still trying to work through her simmering anger. "Of course not."

"I'm gonna get us out of here, Regina." She says, standing straighter, even as Regina swears she can see the fair skin darkening with bruises along Emma's arms where she ran, full tilt

_foolishly_

into iron bars.

"I wish you hadn't… " Regina says softly, now. Barely audible, but Emma hears her. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I know. I'm sorry."

They both stand at the front of their cells, fists clenched around the bars, peering at each other with as much regret as hope. As much longing as pain.

"And _I'm_ sorry I yelled at you."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't." Regina looks down, breaking their gaze. "But its not the first time you've seen me like that?"

Emma seems to think about this for a moment.

_No. no. it's not._

"No." Is what she says.

"So," Regina doesn't want to clarify, but how can she not? "Is that my future? Is it? I'm an angry, demanding woman, making people bend to her will."

Now Emma drops her gaze. She kicks at the dirt under her feet. Shakes her head, as though telling herself not to go further. She takes long moments to find her response. But finally she does.

"I don't." She finally says. "Bend, I mean. We don't work that way. But, um, you're powerful and a lot of people have a tough time separating you from your power."

"I use magic?"

"Yes."

Regina feels her heart drop. Her body follows, knees buckling under her as she crumples to the ground. It doesn't matter, it means nothing. All her strident, earnest, and what sometimes fell masochistic refusals to her mother. And to this… Rumplestiltskin character who has taken such a keen interest in her of late. She would not give in to magic. She would not become a person she didn't want to become.

So.

They win, anyway.

Fanchon had warned her, but Regina had always believed she could somehow ignore the pull of magic, knowing the price it extracted from everyone who used it. Yet, this was her destiny. To be just the flower her mother had sown.

She looks up once more, back to Emma, and sees so much left unspoken dart over her face, flit through her eyes. Intangible, perhaps, but definitely, obviously, there is much this woman could say. And much of it, Regina would swear, is wretched.

What pain has she wrought? What does she become?

"Regina?" Emma calls to her with so much care in her voice. "Whatever you're imagining over there…" She stops and changes course.

_So. It is that bad._

"Well. I love you, so... Do you hear me? I love you."

The plea in the gentle voice, the words, all conspire to pull Regina from her thoughts. She shakes her head, and manages to get back on her feet, walking to the bars to better understand what this woman, this intimate who had only just entered her life… could possibly mean.

"What did you say?" Regina asks, sure she has misheard.

"I... I love you!" Emma repeats herself, seeming rather surprised at the admission herself.

Regina lets this sink in a beat, before deciding still more confirmation is needed.

"You… You're crazy. Is that it?"

"No." Emma denies. Her brow furrows. "Not crazy." And she smiles at her, and says, with a pouting lower lip, "Glad to get that off my chest, actually."

And suddenly, Regina realizes how very much she likes when Emma smiles at her. They are toothy and broad and the very definition of overdone, and she finds Emma's smiles unmatched, and utterly delightful.

That one such smile, delivered with such words, has pulled her from her dark reverie so completely is not lost on Regina. Why? Are Emma's smiles simply so genuine, and expansive, that they pull everyone and everything within a five-league radius along with them? Even Cora's daughter?

Regina quirks her head, looks at Emma sideways.

"I still think you might be a little crazy."

"Maybe a little."

"Emma?" She says, with more lightness than she feels.

"Regina?" Emma replies in kind, her smile still powering the sun.

"I'm… I'm confused." She sighs in frustration. "There's so much I feel like I don't understand. You. Why do you love me?" Regina wishes she could take up Emma's hand. It's the kind of question to ask while touching someone and right now, she so wanted to touch the crazy, smiling woman in the cell beyond. "I… I understand that you're keeping things from me. You're tying to be kind, but I know what my mother is capable of, so I know well what I may be capable of. Yet, you love me? How?"

"Well." Emma is smiling still, but it is more nostalgic, a grin of pleasant remembrance. "It just happened. From the start, really. We… click. I don't know why, really. Some of its hard to pinpoint, you know? But some of it…" She trails off.

"What?"

"We're not that different. You and I." Emma stops and thinks and restarts. "Well, no. We're completely different. But in that 'two sides of the same coin' kind of way, you know? I think we've got a lot of the same stuff we're trying to figure out."

"But you aren't anything like me, really? Are you?" Regina tilts her head to the side, hoping it will help her size this woman up. "You have such… lightness in you, while I'm…"

"Regina!" Emma interrupts. "Don't. If you could see yourself the way I do. Right now." The blonde is shaking her head vigorously, trying to express herself but clearly feeling inadequate. "You have _such_ light in you, too! You are sweet and kind, and I can tell you what's absolutely crystal clear to me? Why I fell for you back in.. before. Because you're _you_." Her arm reaches to Regina, straining through the bars, stretching across the distance though she has no hope of actually reaching her.

Regina responds by reaching out as well, and she won't fight the tears she knows are falling as their hands still yearn for the other, though they are four feet apart.

"God, you're just looking to build your own life, find your own way." Emma continues. "Find your own love. Choose for yourself." She smiles. "There's nothing wrong with that. That's normal. And a mother should want that for you. And, you can _have_ that. You still can!"

And Regina sees that Emma, too, has water at her eyes, and they both reach and stretch and want so much to connect, and

A wire thin spark zings out from Emma's fingers and wraps around Regina's and the air fills with electric humming and they touch in spite of

Cora.

Regina feels the magical connection shatter, and watches in horror as Emma's body is roughly tossed to the back of her cell. Cora stands between them, her back to Regina, but the tension in her body is marked, practically vibrating off of her, her shoulders a rigid line. When she whirls back to her daughter, her eyes are flints of rage and warning, the likes of which Regina has never seen.

"How dare you MOCK me?" Cora waves herself into Regina's cell and she advances menacingly. Regina, steps, stumbles back in an effort to get away. She falls backwards, and her hands come up in self-defense.

"no." she whispers, wondering if it may be her last word.

"Oh, my dear girl." Cora snarls out. "No, don't worry, darling. _You_ will have everything you need. Everything that befits my daughter. That befits a queen. From now, until the day of your wedding, _you_ will want for nothing. Oh, I'll make sure of _that_."

She turns slowly back to look at Emma and glares at the woman's body, frighteningly still and slumped in the corner.

"You. I'll not underestimate you again. Cora states with a dark finality. "Peasant trash." She grinds out as she disappears, leaving in her wake a huge puff of smoke.

As the smoke clears from the prison, Regina notices one thing immediately. There is a shimmering field of light running the length of the floor between she and Emma's' cells. Its source is deep within the earth and the apparent force field disappears high into the ceiling above.

Regina stands to better investigate. It's see-through. Emma's cell, she sees, is now brightly lit by a dozen high torches, lighting every corner in a nearly blinding array.

And, Emma is manacled. She's chained feet to hands, curling her body half over on itself, with the whole, terrifying getup running through a thick loop of iron embedded in the floor of her cell. She no longer wears anything but a thin, short shift barely allowing her modesty, while every other piece of clothing is gone. Already, her body, which is otherwise still, broken, unconscious perhaps, is trembling from the damp cold. Emma's water bucket is tipped over and no straw, dirt, or structure exists in the cell with her. Only rough-hewn, unforgiving cold stone.

"Emma!" Regina calls out in a high whisper, hoping to rouse her…

dare she call her 'love?'

Could Regina love her in return? Could it be true? How could it be anything else? For the pain in Regina's heart seeing Emma in this moment, well, the feelings easily counter the high she'd felt wrapped in Emma's arms, when she was moved by the power of her smile. Emma.

What she doesn't yet completely understand in this life, she wonders if perhaps she understands in her heart.

_please_

"Emma, oh, my darling, please wake up!" She pleads as loudly as she dares. Silly, she knows, for her mother will hear her if she wants, and yet…

Emma is rousing and rolling, and a pained moan rises from her. Regina realizes she is hurt, as a thin trickle of blood runs from somewhere at her back, over her hip and down her leg.

"Emma!" She says with more urgency. "Wake up!"

"Holy Mary Margaret, Mother of …" Emma groans out as she tries to lift her hand to the injury at her back. "What the…" Her eyes flash open as she realizes her restraints, and they close almost as quickly at the brightness of the light—the only thing besides her broken body and yards of chain filling her cell.

"Careful! You're hurt." Regina calls out.

"Jesus Christ." Emma proclaims, and her eyes try to work through the brightness to see into Regina's darker cell. "Regina? You okay in there?"

"Yes!" She calls with her best measure of reassurance, though she itches to get her hands on whatever wound is still bleeding, a wound she cannot see and is afraid could be serious. "Emma! Please listen to me. I need you to focus. Are you quite able?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." Emma squints at her. "What's up besides our – what would you say? Change of fortunes?"

"_Our_ change…?" Regina doesn't understand, but sees that Emma is peering past her, into Regina's cell. Turning around for the first time, Regina realizes that her cell has been transformed, now filled mostly by a four-poster bed covered in fine linens and pillows. The bath and vanity from Regina's bedchamber await her behind a tall screen. Scented warm water lures. A comfortable chair abuts a table filled with food and wine. A greatcoat and muff of ermine, slippers and velvet gowns hang from the wall. A fire roars from an invisible source in the corner.

"Oh no." Regina gasps and covers her mouth.

"What, Regina? What happened?"

Regina doesn't answer and instead moves with great purpose to the table. She picks up a hefty loaf of finely crusted bread and maneuvers it between the cell bars. She moves to throw it from her cell into Emma's.

"Catch!" She says, and lets it fly…

And it bounces against the force field, falling useless onto the dirt floor of the no-man's-land between their cells. Regina stands still. Crest-fallen.

"What did she say?" Emma asks quietly.

"That I was to be here until my wedding."

"Just a few days then." Emma tries. "You'll get out, and we'll figure out the rest."

"Six days."

"Okay, six."

Regina sits on the floor opposite Emma. Nearly naked, trembling, chained, utterly adrift and the woman still serve as her voice of possibility. "Emma. You're hurt. And cold." Regina's brow grows worried. "I can see you shivering from here."

"I'm okay."

Regina laughs a sad laugh, "You're bleeding." Shakes her head. "Again. Because of me."

"No." Emma counters. "Now, wait a minute. How is it your fault? And the last time? Little dude did a sneak attack on me." And she smiles. "I could handle him." She raises her brow in a goofy, self-deprecating smirk.

_Dammit._

"You're trying to make me _laugh?_" Regina says with as much anger as she could muster at Emma's reaction to their new predicament.

"Is it working?" Emma ponders aloud. "I can't see much through the Aurora Borealis over here."

"The Aurora…? The what?" Regina asks, confused.

"They are these crazy lights up in the northern part of the world. I saw them in Denali, Alaska, once. Just weird color and light, blanketing the sky like some natural fireworks or something."

Regina watches as Emma is taking the chain of her manacles and fiddling with it. Then shuddering, with deep, bone-chilling quakes.

"How do you do that?" She asks. In awe.

"Do what?" Emma wonders, meeting Regina's eyes with a challenging strength.

"Act like this is nothing. Like we're talking over tea." Regina feels her heart beat angrily, her ire rising. Perhaps Emma doesn't understand. Perhaps… "She's hoping you'll die in front of me."

"Regina…"

"She's betting that your wound, and the cold, and everything will lead to your end, while I watch. Helpless to save you. In the lap of luxury." The whole plan was coming clear to Regina. Everything. And that understanding was almost too much to bear. She shook with sadness and anger, "Just like before. Because she knows. She'll take you from me because she knows that I love you. So, you have to die!"

And the sobs rush up and out of her and Regina wants to be sick at the thought. That loving _her_, that loving someone else, will cause such a fate. She was a dark stain in the world. She should be removed. She should remove herself…

She stood abruptly and began to consider the many options. The bread knife, the linens, the bathwater…

"You love me?" Emma asked in a soft voice that fell like balm into angry, ringing ears. "Regina?"

When Regina turned back to her, Emma was on her knees, chains dangling, as close to the cell bars as she could get.

"Hey!" Emma tried a gentle smile and Regina felt her anger melting. She knelt opposite.

"Hey." She said, swallowing. Knowing she could no more hurt herself and make Emma survive watching that, than she could watch Emma die. There had to be another way.

"Your mother isn't all that, you know." Emma nods at her. "She thinks she is, but she's wrong."

"How…?"

"She thinks love is weakness."

"…Yes…" Regina marveled at the things Emma understood.

"It isn't." Emma grins. "And you and I are gonna show her just how wrong she is."

/

tbc

Next week - Will Cora finally succeed in breaking Emma? Can the Savior find her way clear? Does her Queen?

**A/N Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter, lovelies. Crazy life/crazier work. Thanks for sticking with me and for every last review, follow, favorite, and read-couldn't do it without all of you!**


	7. Chapter 7

It's a small cut, in the scheme of things. But it's also true that even the smallest wound can rend the halest heart.

At first, Emma doesn't think much about the likelihood of a rapidly blooming infection at the site of the cut on her shoulder, because she's far too concerned about the cold. And the shackles. And Regina.

Mostly Regina.

Across the dirt path (and through the iron bars and force field) that separates them, Emma sees Regina is eyeing her warily, worried. Once Cora poofed away and Emma realized the state in which she now found herself, she knew that the first thing she needed to do was to alleviate Regina's worry.

She knows she looks a wreck, and things must appear rather dire from where Regina is sitting, but Emma will be damned if she's going to let Regina stay in a dark place.

Her nonchalance is the first salvo. It might have come across as hubris, but it does seem to make Regina more relaxed. And, it helps that Emma certainly believes she can—and will defeat—Cora. Knowing what she knows of their battle in that other time gives Emma the greatest advantage anyone may have ever had over Cora. Emma can't wait to use it. And she'll win. She's cocky enough to feel good about admitting it, and letting Regina feel optimistic about their chances, too, is a bonus.

For a while at first, naturally, the two talk about ways they might escape. They try briefly to summon up the magic they'd seen earlier, but the force field absorbs every spark between them as though swallowed by gelatin. In her cell, Emma has only the broken remains of a water bucket and torches too far above her head even if she had free hands to reach them. For her part, Regina seems to have countless potential weapons and lock-picks, but whenever she lifts an item up with the intent to use it to further their escape—be it a fork, a knife, or a length of mutton—the item instantly dissolves into dust.

Several hours into their captivity, as the cold damp of the cell seems to envelope her in its discomfiting embrace, as her vulnerable body begins to feel the effects of long-term exposure and heavy manacles, and with a lack of obvious options bubbling up, Emma realizes that things might actually _be_ just as dire as they appear.

She needs a distraction, while she figures out what the hell to do. So, she keeps them both well occupied for some time, sharing select bits of the story of her first time in the Enchanted Forest. She stands—though hunched—and moves. A lot. Dragging the length of chain back and forth through the loop on the floor. Though it burns precious energy, it keeps her warm_er _and all that movement proves a great way to mask the full-body shuddering that she can't help but succumb to again and again. With her bare feet, bare head, and practically bare body, Emma is, she admits to herself, freezing.

_fucking freezing_

But she doesn't want Regina to see this, and so she talks of coming to the Forest and how that if she had only known that Regina was so near, right there in Leopold's kingdom, then she'd have spent not one moment climbing up beanstalks or questing for compasses

"And gotten my lily white butt over here to see you."

"Tout suite?" Regina grins.

"Exactly." Emma winks at her and even from the distance can see her cheeks pink.

Unfortunately, the lovely blush cannot warm Emma from so far off. And the dozen torches above her inexplicably throw off no heat. Emma quickly stopped looking to them for warmth when she realized _that_ strange phenomena, but it continues to puzzle her brain. The stone beneath her, the irons that weigh her down, all that is lifeless and unforgiving thrives in her cell, and the lone living thing—her—the thing that needs and feeds on warmth, feels the insistent, bitter cold with dread and fear, for she knows it has entered her cells, is turning her veins, her arteries, her very heart to ice, making even her throat spasm to close itself against the frigid air.

So Emma talks. She shuffles. She waves her hands about and spins a brighter, shinier tale of her first time in this land. She tries to think like Henry. It warms her from within just to think of him, but especially to think of him telling Regina a story. How he would embellish it and try to make her laugh. He'd use funny voices and dance a bit and Emma channels their son because this Regina may not know him, but she will understand him a little bit better because Emma will have shared this story and told it just this way.

Thinking of their son, though, Emma tries not to linger on the niggling thought that Regina may never meet Henry. That if Emma _can't_ escape, Henry will never exist. That if she _does_ escape, and if she saves Regina from Cora and her fated bleak future, and if Regina never casts the curse, Henry may never exist. That if Cora marries her daughter to this King Leopold and something that was supposed to happen doesn't happen because Emma has already probably completed fucked everything up just by being here, Henry may never exist. She wants to tell Regina all about their son, but…

_Hell. __**I**__ may never exist. _

Before her rapid-fire thoughts lead her too far down existential hallways she's just not that interested in exploring, and in deference to the discomfort she feels, Emma casts aside these thoughts and draws herself closer to the bars. She wants to see Regina as clearly as possible. She wants to look at her and to feel her energy, that same energy that had arced between them earlier. It hasn't gone away. Its still there, though Emma can't pinpoint its location through the quaky cold rock that her brain feels like it has become.

_Talk about your brain freeze._

She thinks, and ruefully, smiles to herself, wondering how she ever grew up to be so stupid.

She then decides she might _actually_ be losing brain capacity and how,

_yeah, that's not funny. _

She needs to focus. On finding a way to establish that energy again. Their magic. Maybe by going under the dirt, below the surface of reality. Or out in the ether. They just need to tap into it. Somehow. Make the spark happen again.

But Emma is hurting. All of her animated storytelling has kept Regina placated—almost entertained, Emma thinks, sure she's seen a smile cross the woman's drawn features once or twice in the telling of stinky ogres and unrecognizable foods—but it has also meant the iron cuffs at Emma's hands and feet have bounced and dragged and dug and left red, heavy marks on the surface, as well as deep under the skin. Especially at the highest points, her wrist bone, her ankle, the weighty metal has pinched and pulled at her flesh and the tender parts are rapidly becoming more numerous than those not battered.

But Regina loves her. This Regina. She loves her. So, maybe the other Regina… Every Regina…

And this seems like the thing she wants to focus on instead. Instead of Cora, or absent, impossible to locate magic, or iron bars. She wants to think of love. She wants to close her eyes and think of Regina and her bright true light and how they will be perfect together someday and just have that be enough for now. She's tired.

As she tries to close her eyes, she realizes two things. One is that the brightness of those very unpleasant torches has been specifically rendered to keep her awake, and the other is that she's feeling… not good.

"What happened then? Emma?"

Regina is asking her something, but she's not sure what, or why her voice sounds so far away. After all, when Emma raises her eyes, she sees the beauty of the woman as near as she remembers. But her voice? Why is it so, so far away?

Emma feels herself needing to sit down, but she's not sure she'll make it gracefully to the floor, her head feeling spinny and hot. Her knees start to buckle under her but the sounds of six pairs of feet marching into the dungeon prevent her from fulfilling the compellingly urgent desire to rest. Getting her feet more soundly under her, Emma watches through the slits of her eyes, for its suddenly hard to open them farther, burning as they are.

Two soldiers stand outside of Regina's cell as another opens the door. A fourth carries a chair that he places just outside Regina's cell.

"But what is happening?" Regina asks, her eyes wide with confusion as they lead her out of her cell and have her sit in the chair. Here, Regina can more clearly see into Emma's cell, and this reality prompts Emma to try and stand straighter. She falters, the links of iron pulling her back down, and instead, she winds up falling to her knees.

"Oops!" She cries, still trying to play down her circumstance, but she sees Regina start and nearly jump from her chair with concern. A guard, though, presses his big, gloved hand down onto Regina's shoulder, keeping the woman in place.

Emma doesn't like that hand there. Not even a little. And neither does Regina.

"What is the meaning of this?" Regina tries to sound demanding, but she mostly sounds anxious.

Emma realizes she's wavering on her knees, not entirely sure she won't tip over.

"Your mother wanted you to have a better view." One of the guards says darkly. "While you have something to eat."

"I'll eat nothing unless Emma eats as well." Regina says, indignant.

They haven't eaten for… has it been a day? Emma has no concept of how many hours they've already passed in the bowels of this prison. Regina'd had the abundance of food, piled in her cell, for perhaps five hours. Neither has mentioned the food or the possibility of eating during that span of time, both knowing that there is to be no way to get Emma even a crumb.

But truthfully, Emma isn't hungry. Thirst, though… thirst is a separate problem. She tries to recall the last bit of water she's had. After leaving the marketplace to locate a room for the night, she'd been too excited to think about anything but Regina and how she might return to her, forgoing dinner in exchange for outfitting her journey back to the palace and fighting off the guards that stood between them.

Stupidly, she'd not had a drop of the water in the cell prior to being shackled, before the bucket had been broken and overturned. She's probably sweated out a gallon just by tugging on unforgiving bars and another hopping around like an idiot trying to keep Regina's mind off their predicament.

The last water or food she'd had, Regina had given her, in the tent after she'd first arrived.

This thought alone might have succeeded in toppling her over, had one of the guards not produced a thin iron pole from his cloak with which he poked her through the bars, striking her square in an already throbbing shoulder. The jab sends her backwards into a graceless, crumpling heap.

"Emma!" She hears Regina exclaim. "You brute! Don't you touch her!" Again, Regina must try to rise, but Emma sees two guards now stand at either side of her, pinning Regina to the chair, holding her hands to the wooden armrests.

"Eat. Or she'll get worse than that, I can tell you."

"_What_ did you say to me?"

The voice from this light, young Regina fills with dangerously contained fury. Emma would have been convinced that _her_ Regina was sitting there, summoning up her most intimidating tone, feeling utterly threatened and absolutely powerful—had she not known the truth. She wants to speak to her, tell her everything will be fine, but, unexpectedly, only a low groan leaks from her mouth.

"I'll say whatever I want_, princess_. Push me." The guard taunts. "_Please_."

Emma tries to roll herself back up to her knees, but no part of her body is cooperating, and the aching sizzle at her back is new. Flames lick around her eyes from some source she can't pinpoint, and yet, uselessly, they do nothing to stem her shivering. The chains at her wrist seem to be sliding, up and down her forearms, skidding through the sweat that stands out on her skin.

_sweat. fuckin' fairtyland. in this cold._

"Emma!" She hears Regina calling her, but all the swimming heat in her head impedes her vision.

_what the fuck…?_

Finally, Emma is able to roll onto her back. She looks like a dead bug, no doubt, legs and arms awkwardly held aloft, the chains draping heavy across her body.

She opens her eyes and finds Regina is standing, staring back at her. Suddenly all of the prison, the cells, the guards, the force field, even the dirt floor and the poor dead woman in the cell next door—all of it is melting away, leaving only she and Regina.

And Regina is smiling.

She kneels at Emma's side and with the touch of a single fingertip to her hot brow, Emma feels her shackles fall away, feels her body heal, feels her very cells rehydrate, her blood run warm and comforting in her veins.

Regina's smile is broad and lovely.

"Emma." She says in that low rumble that always tightens Emma's stomach. "Can you stand? Come up, my love."

And she stands and she is as she was, though the thin shift has been replaced with her clothes, all traces of sweat and bruises gone from her body. Even her boots are back on her feet. Two boots. Good as new.

"How did you…?" She asks Regina with disbelief. She is answered with a kiss.

Regina's lips are wet and warm. They cover Emma's mouth with soft reverence and a moan floats between them. Emma immediately draws her hand up, and under Regina's hair, holding her head as she responded with a kiss in-kind, thanking Regina, loving her without pause.

Arms wrap around each other tightly, and Regina is warm, so warm. They kiss and they kiss. They taste and explore and giggle and swoon and the very air around them seems to swirl with heat and Emma feels like she'll float away under this feeling. She is more light than she's ever been. She's filled with light, with hope, and it is Regina both keeping her on the ground and sending her sailing off. It is Regina that she trembles for, is aching for.

She takes up Regina's hand and weaves their fingers together. She draws their hands close to their two hearts, both thunderously beating, and Regina tugs her hand away.

She pushes at Emma's chest and barks out a broken, "Stop it!"

Emma stumbles away in confusion. She is aching for Regina. She is aching.

"Stop it! Please!" Regina still appeals, even as Emma stands six feet away. "Dear God, STOP!"

And the ache spreads from between Emma's legs. It shifts and turns and it no longer feels at all pleasant. Emma doesn't want it, this feeling. It's climbed into her chest and she feels it sharply along her forearms. A massive chill subsumes her, and her entire being shudders under the brutal cold.

"PLEASE! I'll do it." Regina is crying.

_Why are you crying? Don't cry…"_

And Emma feels the painful ache again, less pronounced. As though someone has taken an iron bar and poked her in the gut.

And suddenly, she is drenched.

"Don't die just yet, peasant."

"Fuck off." She hears herself say.

Emma opens her eyes. She is lying on her side, in her cell. She is wearing the thin shift, now soaked through from a bucket of thrown water apparently. She is shackled, and one long, thin, purpling bruising along her forearms bears witness to the punishment she's endured

Regina sits in the chair outside her cell, on the other side of the force field. She is chewing a mouthful of bread. She's crying.

But her eyes. Her eyes are glowing.

"It's okay. Just eat." Emma says. "No sense we both starve. I'm fine."

"_Fine_, are you?" Cora moves between the guards and stares at Emma with eyes so dark that they nearly do not exist.

"Fuck you." Emma spits out before she can stop herself.

"And my dear girl, she's such a catch, too." Cora says, turning to Regina with a disgusted scowl. "Articulate. Measured. I can see the appeal."

"Leave her alone, Cora." Emma gets her feet under her and stands as tall as she can, though at that, she still appears to be genuflecting to the woman before her.

"Or…?" Cora taunts. "You'll curse at me again?" She smirks and turns away, waving nonchalantly over her shoulder. The wave hurtles Emma back the full length of her chains and she whiplashes as the links between her body and the loop embedded in the ground, run out.

"Bring her." Cora motions to Regina, who is permitted to stand. The guards fall in step on either side of her, but don't touch her. Regina locks eyes with Emma. The darkness of Regina's pupils were replaced with a swirling purple light.

She offers a small smile that Emma gladly accepts, trying to make her own face answer in reply.

_Close your eyes. _Regina mouths silently back to her.

Emma does immediately, as Regina raises her hands above her head, before the guards have a chance to react.

Above her, Emma hears what sounds like the too-bright, heat-free torches explode. A shower of small bits of something sharp – sparks? – fall upon her. She shelters her head in her hands as it sounds like the walls of her cell are moving, in a screech of bending metal.

When Emma opens her eyes again, her shackles truly are gone, and she is truly healed. No dream, this.

On top of this, the Guards and Cora are trapped, within the very force field that Cora had created earlier. Their panicked faces and silent screaming reveal their distress, yet Cora. Cora looks out at her daughter with a ferocious hatred.

Regina moves to what is left of Emma's cell. She takes her hand, and encourages Emma to step out, over the bent and misshapen metal bars. Together they stop before Cora, but it is Regina who speaks.

"Next time, you might not underestimate me, either, Mother."

tbc

A/N – Hope you enjoyed this chapter, lovelies. I've so enjoyed all your reviews, and knowing you all are with me on this journey. More to come…


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